


The Secret of Jason Todd (A Batman Novella)

by TowerofBabel



Series: Tales of the Bat Family [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-25 14:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15642234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TowerofBabel/pseuds/TowerofBabel
Summary: Freeze has learned Jason's secret; Lazarus Pit; and demands to know its location, or he'll destroy Gotham City with a new weapon he calls Ice Acid - a vicious compound that eats everything it comes in contact with. He wants to revive his wife, Nora. The BatFamily must band together to stop Freeze or risk everything! (Sequel to my short story 'A Matter of Trust')





	1. The Thought of Revenge

Jason Todd awoke with one of the worse hangovers he’d ever had, and to those who knew Jason and his habits, he’d had had quite a few bad hangovers. When he moved, every muscle in his body hurt, even his eyelids. A brightness cascaded through a window near-by and stung his pupils like they were being struck by tiny needles.  
  
_Oh God, how much did I drink last night? I don’t remember a thing…_  
  
Laying on his stomach, he turned over on his back and for a moment lay flat on the sheets, blinking his eyes despite the pain. He picked points in the room to focus on and tried to gage his surroundings, he didn’t know where he was. The last thing he remembered was he was at a bar and sucking back one shot after another in some sort of drinking game. He didn’t normally drink like that, but someone egged him on and he was never one to be a coward.  
  
_Maybe this was one time I should’ve made a strategic retreat, as Tim always says…_  
  
He whipped off the covers and noticed he was wearing nothing but his Kelvin’s — his clothes neatly folded on a chair next to the bed. That was when his brain finally kicked in to where he was and judging by the decor of the room, he was in a Wayne Manor guest bedroom. And not his own apartment.  
  
There was an unwritten rule that the BatFamily, as they affectionally called themselves, came to Wayne Manor for the holidays, no exceptions. On the rare occasions when Jason visited — both he and Dick had their own apartments — Alfred would always prepare one of the guest rooms for him. But why was he here now? He had made no plans to visit, nor was it a holiday.  
  
Yes, he recalled, he must have been so drunk that he instinctively told taxi to bring him here he got in at the bar. He then also remembered, vaguely, Alfred undressing him, and getting him into bed. But he was foggy on the details.  
  
_Good old, Al… I’ll have to buy him some biscuits to go with his tea._  
  
Later after he dressed, he made his way down to the Bat Cave, where even the smallest noise from the shrieking of the elevator, to any other tiny noise, delivered shock after shock to his skull due to the hangover. No one else was in the Bat Cave except for, who else, Tim Drake, and he was at a lower tier console of the Batcomputer — probably engaged in some project. He was always working on the computer.  
  
_Tim: the techno-freak._  
  
Jason badly wanted a smoke, but it was forbidden in the main area of the Bat Cave, and when he checked in his clothes, he had none. So, he settled for some coffee instead that was brewing on table near Tim. Tim knew how to make a really good brew of coffee. He supposed all night owls did.  
  
He picked up an empty mug sitting next to the coffee pot on the table and poured himself a full cup. Oh, Goddess of black gold, please cure this god-awful pain in my head! He was expecting black coffee, but wasn’t black at all — and it tasted good, really good! Jason sipped, and sipped some more.  
  
_Is that cinnamon and nutmeg within the coffee? So good…_  
  
Tim finished typing something into the Batcomputer, some sort of digital code, and then turned 180 in his seat. He rolled his eyes — Jason knew he looked exhausted. “Rough night?”  
  
“I don’t remember…”  
  
“I can smell the booze on you. You reek of it!”  
  
“Care to tone down the lecture, professor. I have a major headache.”  
  
“That’s what you get for drinking too much,” Tim said unsympathetically, then turned back to the Batcomputer, and continued typing. “There’s some stuff for headaches in the Medical Bay. I think Bruce keeps the good stuff for pain in a locked cabinet, but it’s not locked at the moment.”  
  
_Hint, hint!_ “Perfect!” Jason voiced, and wondered across the length of the Bat Cave to the Medical Bay section.  
  
After gulping down some meds for his hangover, and taking a few other things for later when he needed it — Bruce would probably notice, but he didn’t care — he returned to Batcomputer.  
  
He filled his mug up again. “Good coffee, Timmy,” he said, sipping it. He was more alert now. “What’re you working on? You’re always at this computer whenever I see you. Or should I ask? Do you even engage with us lower lifeforms anymore or have you evolved into a superior, robotic meta-human?”  
  
“You question does not compute.”  
  
“Ha-ha, you’re a joker,” Jason said dryly.  
  
Tim smirked crookedly. “I’m upgrading the algorithms for the Batcomputer’s security protocols. I do it more frequently after Cat Woman breached the Bat Cave and attached a nullifier to the computer during her erotic fanfiction caper.”  
  
“I’m not fully awake yet, Tim. In English, please,” Jason said, feeling his head. He still had a mild headache but it was quickly fading. “Or, if I get you — you’re cockblocking us from more pussies?”  
  
Tim slammed a fist on the side of the keyboard dash. “Why do you have to be so disgusting?”  
  
Jason slipped his coffee. “It’s who I am, kid. I’m a realist. I tell it like it is.”  
  
Something beeped on the Batcomputer. Whatever program Tim had been running had finished, and he turned to read the diagnoses.  
  
As Tim did that, Jason took his coffee and left Tim’s side for a moment, and wondered the Bat Cave. He found himself looking at the many ‘trophies’ Bruce had collected over the years from the arch-criminals he had defeated. One of the most prominent trophies was a giant silver coin on display. It was from one of his earlier cases when Dick Grayson was Robin. He hadn’t gotten the full story about it, but it had something to do with the criminal Harvey Two-Face, the man who didn’t do anything without consulting a two-sided coin.  
  
The man who also murdered my parents, Jason remembered. Currently, the bastard was in Arkham Asylum, but if Jason had a say, he’d be six feet under right now.  
  
As Robin, in a previous life, Jason had fought against Two-Face many times. And every time they met, Bruce had to reel him in from committing the worse act of evil — murdering his parents’ killer. Anger still swelled in him. But he learned to control his urges, for the most part, and channel his anger issues to more productive ventures…like killing other criminals that Bruce and the others don’t want to touch, as the vigilante Red Hood.  
  
Harvey Two-Face was vicious, and personified what it was to be the typical mob boss. Before he turned to crime, he was a Gotham City District Attorney. Acid was thrown into face by criminals in court, and as a result it caused a split personality disorder, and half his face was disfigured. He had a nasty temper, too. The giant coin was scratched on one side and was normal on the other, much like Two-Face.  
  
_Much like everyone, in fact,_ Jason mused. Everyone has two parts to their personality.  
  
With his brain fully awake from the coffee and meds, he remembered Nightwing and Damian were on night patrol, and he checked his watch. It was mid-morning, so they would be back very soon, he wagered.  
  
Jason crossed the floor back to Tim. “So, have you given any thought to our conversion the other day?”  
  
“Not particularly,” Tim stopped, and turned in his seat to face Jason. “And revenge is not my forte.”  
  
“Oh c’mon! Dickiebird and the Hell Spawn did a number on us a week ago. You told me you spent nearly half a day running back and forth to the bathroom after Damian gave you that laxative in your protein smoothie; Dick putting viagra in mine. Do you know how hard it was to take a piss? I had to be a very skilled acrobat.”  
  
“I didn’t need that image,” Tim said. “It was a rotten thing to do, I admit it, but in retrospect, we deserved it. We listened in on a very private conversion with my new parabolic radio dish.”  
  
“You’re such an apologist.”  
  
“Hey, I would’ve thought you’d got your revenge after you gave your ‘gift’ to Dick. I can’t believe you gave him that!”  
  
Jason shrugged his shoulders. “I think my little note with it said it all. Dick is a forgiving guy, but he does have a dark side, too. Case in point with what he and Damian put in our smoothies. However, I missed the shock factor when he opened it. Where was the revenge? Besides, I found the vibrator in my room the next morning painted just like me as Red Hood with a note that said, “Stick it where the sun never shines, ‘Little Wing’ — Love, D.G”  
  
Tim snickered.  
  
“I hate it when he calls me ‘Little Wing’. He used to call me that when I was Robin.”  
  
“He has nicknames for everyone, everyone except for Bruce.”  
  
“You know what the real tragedy is in all this? He took the damn batteries out of the vibrator! I paid for those batteries! Batteries aren’t cheap. Some packs cost more than a pack of cigarettes!”  
  
Tim laughed. He turned back to the Batcomputer. “You never give up trying to emulate, Dick — eh, Jason? You either crack jokes or try to annoy people with your talkative nature.”  
  
“Lighten up, Tim. You only live twice.”  
  
“I think the saying goes: you only live once.”  
  
“Not in my case,” Jason said. The remark referred back to his second-life after surviving a near-death experience at the hands of the Joker who beat him senseless with a crowbar only to be resurrected with the Lazarus Pit. “I am, in every sense of the term, a living god!” He extended his arms out wide like an angelic being.  
  
Jason kept his arms like that for comedic effect and waited for a response from Tim. Tim turned slowly in his chair and gave him a you-have-got-to-be-kidding-look. “Frankly Jason, if you’re the embodiment of a living god with everything you do, then this world is in serious trouble.”  
  
“So cruel, Tim…so cruel,” Jason said.  
  
The roar of the Batmobile suddenly filled the Bat Cave and the massive vehicle pulled up through the main access entrance tunnel and parked on the middle platform near Jason. Tim stood up from the Batcomputer to greet them.  
  
Jason took a sip from his coffee and watched as the top canopy slid back.  
  
Robin (Damian) and Nightwing (Dick Grayson) exited the vehicle. They had returned from night patrol.  
  
Nightwing pulled off his mask and headed straight for Jason. “Well, good morning, Sunshine. Did you enjoy your little night of fun last night?”  
  
Damian took off his mask, too. “Stupid ass drunk!”  
  
“What did you say, you little hobgoblin?” Jason started, sneering.  
  
Damian smacked his lips with his patented -- _Tt_ \-- but Dick hushed him before he could respond to the name calling. “Jason, you caused quite a ruckus last night at that bar we found you at,” Dick said. “Luckily we were in the area to smooth things out with the owner and call you a cab to the Manor.”  
  
That was one mystery solved, how he got to the Manor instead of his apartment. He sipped his coffee indifferent of the information. “I don’t remember much of last night. Enlighten me.”  
  
Damian sat down in chair next to Tim and whipped off his gloves. He threw them to the floor angrily, and then began: “Then let me lay everything out for you, you drunken fool. From reports, you made a complete ass out of yourself! From chattering up an array of women — one of whom had a boyfriend the size of Bane — to engaging in rude loquacious behaviour on the dance floor with others. You even said to one women, and I quote: ‘Come back to my apartment, baby, and I’ll lick the glitter off her perfectly shaped ample apple of an ass!”  
  
Tim couldn’t help snickering and put a hand to his mouth. Even Dick had a hard time keeping a straight face.  
  
Damian continued without even cracking a smile. “Then, after she rejected you, we were told you threatened the bartender with bodily harm if he didn’t keep serving you drinks even though you were way over the legal limit. And then, when an off-duty cop in the bar tried to intervene, you assaulted him who wanted to arrest you. That was when we walked in after intercepting a call to the cops from the bar-owner, and Nightwing convinced the cop otherwise, and even personally vouched for you, saying you were a close friend of former Officer Dick Grayson. Apparently Grayson’s good name still has clout even outside of Bludhaven after all the good he did there.”  
  
Jason’s eyes blinked, as if desperately trying to recall what Damian was telling him.  
  
“Oh, and, not to mention the bar bill — which Nightwing paid for. How the hell did you manage to rack up nearly a thousand dollars worth of booze? You need an intervention.”  
  
Dick laughed. Damian’s dry version of the story was beyond funny. But the boy looked disappointed, upset, and Dick noticed. “Stop brooding, Damian. Just because nothing exciting happened other than the incident at the bar, you shouldn’t take out your frustration on Jason. For once, it was a quite night.”  
  
Jason and Tim shared a glance, then Jason said, “Damian…Was Dick bored tonight?”  
  
Damian didn’t mince words. “Yes, he was! And he wouldn’t stop telling me bad jokes. And if I ignored him, he’d hug me, telling me I was ‘cute little panda’ or something like that.” Damian shivered. “Chilling, to say the least.”  
  
Dick pouted.  
  
“You never ignore Dick, you know that Damian, or he will get annoying,” Jason said, and Tim nodded agreement.  
  
“Hey!” Dick protested.  
  
“He’s a hugger all right,” Tim said. “And he’s done it to all of us. He finds us wherever we are, anywhere in Gotham through our GPS, and doesn’t stop until he gets what he wants.”  
  
“Hey now, now that’s not fair!” Dick said, he put his hands on his hips. “You make me out to be some sort of stalker. I do it because we’re family. I love you guys. I love my family. If you didn’t like it, why didn’t you say anything?”  
  
“Because it is better to give you what you want than see you unhappy, Dick,” Jason explained, and everyone agreed. “It’s just the way it is. You’re just not yourself unless you’re the happy-go-lucky-guy we all know you to be.”  
  
Dick felt hurt for a moment, but not for long. “I can’t argue with that logic. But I’m glad you guys told me.” He extended his arms out. “Group hug then?”  
  
The others looked at him strangely.  
  
Dick put his arms down. “Okay, fine. Have it your way.” He quickly got serious. “Okay, everyone suit up. Full regalia, weapons, belts, masks — everything! Tim, Jason…I know you’re going on patrol later, but you, too. Now!”  
  
“Why?” Damian asked. “Are we going back out?”  
  
Dick wiggled a finger from side to side. “Nope,” he said with a slight sly smile. “Everyone get dressed, I’ll explain later. We’ll meet back here in ten minutes.”

 

_To Be Continued..._


	2. Nightwing's Embarrassing Defeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freeze has learned Jason's secret; Lazarus Pit; and demands to know its location, or he'll destroy Gotham City with a new weapon he calls Ice Acid - a vicious compound that eats everything it comes in contact with. He wants to revive his wife, Nora. The Bat Family must band together to stop Freeze or risk everything! (Sequel to my short story 'A Matter of Trust')

Once they were all gathered in full regina — masks on and weapons ready — Dick, now masked again, began to explain the reason for calling them all together in such a manner.  
  
First, he took a moment to look at each one of his adopted brothers in turn, and then he smiled proudly.  
  
With Dick in charge while Bruce was away on a week-long Wayne Enterprises business cruise — it was an annual event, and with some very heavy persuading from Alfred for him to go after missing it for two years in a row Bruce conceded to go —  although he did keep in check daily — Grayson knew it was important to keep each one of the family in top form both mentally and psychically.  
  
When tired, that was the best way to test their acuity skills. Fighting crime was tiresome, so a crime fighter had to be in tiptop physical shape as well as have a razor sharp mind defeat one’s enemy.  
  
I _have a feeling both Jason and Damian are going to hate this exercise, but oh well…_  
  
“The name of this exercise is called _Elimination,_ ” he began. “I see we’re all here with our gear and weapons, you won’t need them. Put them down. For this exercise: no weapons, no tricks — just good old fashion combat.”  
  
“You could’ve just said that ten minutes ago,” Damian said disgruntled, putting down his gear and weapons. Jason and Tim did the same. Nightwing, knowing beforehand, had left his Escrima Sticks on a table.  
  
Nightwing shrugged his shoulders. “Yes, I could have. But what would be the fun in that? Now, no more complaining and no whining…” he told everyone. “And here’s an incentive to engage in the exercise before I lay out the rules, because without incentive they’ll be very little interest. Although, I figure Tim would participate regardless.”  
  
“Teacher’s pet,” Damian muttered to Drake.  
  
Drake childishly stuck out his tongue at Damian.  
  
Nightwing allowed the slight interlude of child’s play between them without chastising, then continued. “The incentive is the winner gets to make the loser or losers do whatever he wants and they can’t say no. Understand?”  
  
“That’s it? _That’s_ the incentive here? Okay…” Jason shrugged. It reminded Jason of bribing kids with ice cream to be good. “So, basically, we beat the crap outta each other bare-handed until there’s a last man standing?”  
  
Damian punched a fist into a hand and smiled like a crazed lunatic. “I like this game already. Grayson, Drake — you two can relax. I got this!” And he took a step towards Jason. “I’m still mad at you for last week listening in on my private conversion.  Beating the crap outta you is its own incentive to me.”  
  
Jason snorted. “Get over it, you little turd!” He clenched his fists in response. “But bring it on! Bruce protects you, but this game sounds like a great way to ward off grievances.”  
  
Nightwing stepped between them, spreading his arms apart to separate them. He knew the tension between Jason and Damian, but was there something deeper or even a jealousy on the part of Jason’s towards Damian with that little remark? He’d have to address that at another time. “Hey! Enough! Damian, Jason — back up now!” They separated with some reluctance. “Damian, I haven’t explained the rules yet. They’ll be no physical contact either.”  
  
“Huh? Wait — no weapons and no physical contact, but an exercise in combat? How does that work?” Tim wondered.  
  
“This will be a mental combative exercise,” Nightwing explained. “To be in top physical condition is one thing, but you must also have a sharp, tactful mind in the field.”  
  
_With Tim, that isn't a problem,_ Dick thought. But he needs to get away from the computer more.  
  
“Will this be like that asinine projecting trick you taught us you do with your mind?” Jason asked dubiously.  
  
Nightwing gave him an aberrant glance. “I’m projecting a thought at you now, Jason. Can you guess what is it?”  
  
“Yes, but you took the batteries.” Jason gave him a crooked smirk.  
  
Tim cleared his throat after a sudden, short snicker. Nightwing gave him a momentary sideways glance. He figured Jason had obviously told Tim how he re-gifted Jason’s gift.  
  
Dick sighed. “Please focus, Jason. I’m being serious. Okay?”  
  
Jason placed his hands on his hips in resignation. “Okay. What do you want us to do?”  
  
Nightwing collected them all together, each facing one another like four points of a star. Nightwing directed them to close their eyes, and they did. Damian muttered something about the exercise already sounding corny, but Nightwing hushed him. “Now, everyone…take deep breathes and relax your mind, loosen your body, and free your thoughts of uneasiness — feel the energy that flows within yourself. Your body and your mind can be your best friend or your worse enemy. A strong core with both can aid you when you most need the strength or fail you within moments.”  
  
Nightwing took a deep breath before continuing. “We’ve all faced deadly adversaries, and we’ve all come back battered, bruised, and some of us, even worse. But we’ve all persevered during those times to come back even stronger. And we are most strong together, as a team, a union of souls and soldiers, fighting for a common cause — to protect those who cannot. We four are Batman’s knights. He chose us to be his sword and his shield. And like the four points of a compass, we protect Gotham City from the parasites that infest it.”  
  
“Damn straight!” Jason voiced.  
  
“I agree,” Tim uttered.  
  
“We are the knights of Gotham!” Damian proclaimed.  
  
“You’re all correct. And yet, we are also individuals. Our energy is channeled as a whole, but with others, we must also aid ourselves, look after ourselves, heed our inner nature, bath in our own desires and nourish our souls.” Nightwing took a moment, and then continued. “Jason, you are strong — and think with your soul. Tim, you are smart and think with your head. And Damian, you kind and think with your heart. Bruce has tried to install in all of us over the years a sense of inner strength and individuality, to make our own decisions both as a team and in our daily lives. We are not only his adopted kids, but we are his inner strength — the core in which he has devoted his life to father us as best he could. And we, in turn, have given him everything we could to pay him back in kind.”  
  
“Is there a point to this?” Damian interrupted. “Or, are you just going to talk?”  
  
“God, you’re insensitive!” Tim retorted. He opened his eyes. “Can’t you see Dick’s laying out the groundwork?”  
  
Damian opened his eyes. “Sounds to me, he’s just babbling about his emotions. Father didn’t train us to be weak. We can’t be weak out in the field, or we’re dead! We fight with our swords, our fists, and crush our enemies!”  
  
Jason and Dick shared a glance. Both knew an argument was about to ensue between the boys.  
  
“Enough you two!”  
  
All of a sudden Dick Grayson’s stomach grumbled loudly.  
  
“Hungry?” Jason asked.  
  
“Yeah, I haven’t eaten all night.”  
“Maybe this exercise should be put on hold until we’ve had breakfast?” Tim offered. “I’m a little famished myself.”  
  
Suddenly the sound of a low rumbling came from within the group. Everyone looked to Jason.  
  
“Oh c’mon, Jason!” Tim put a hand to his nose. “You didn’t just do that?”  
  
“Oops!” Jason put his hands up in admission. “Must’ve been the coffee, I had two cups.”  
  
“Okay, I’m done,” Damian said, and began to walk away. “I’m going to get some rest. Dealing with Grayson’s jokes, fending off his hugging sessions, and now dealing with childish antics like this, is very tiresome.”  
  
“Oh, look at the mature thirteen year old,” Jason said mockingly.  
  
“Hey…” Dick began to say, but his protest was ignored. “You can’t just walk away in the middle of the exercise?”  
  
“I’m finished, too,” Tim said. “I have work do to on the Batcomputer. I can’t believe we got dressed up for this?”  
  
Dick put up his hands in disbelief. He had planned this exercise like a teacher planned a class lesson. Now his students were just walking away…  
  
“It was dumb, Grayson,” Damian added. “And I never agreed to the rules. So you can’t hold them against me. I won’t be anyone’s slave!” he then said, his voice echoing the Bat Cave as he entered the changing chamber.  
  
“I’m in the same boat,” Tim agreed.  
  
“You’re no body’s slave, guys! C’mon!”  
  
“Victory is mine!” Jason triumphantly proclaimed.  
  
Dick gave him a disbelieving look. “What victory?”  
  
“The rules, Dickiebird, the rules!” Jason said with large grin. “The winner gets to make the loser or losers do whatever he wants and they can’t say no, end quote. Those two quit. Do you concede, too?”  
  
“Yes, I concede. But the exercise was designed for all four us in mind, Jason. You can’t hold me to them, we barely got started.” Dick crossed his arms across his chest, he felt hurt. “Fine, I designed the exercise, or tried, and I participated. Those two are poor sports, but I keep my word. But I never imagined that I would ever lose like this. Okay, what do you want me to do?”  
  
“Seriously? Um, okay… I’ll think of something and get back to you.”  
  
“Fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to change, get something to eat, and rest. It was a long, boring night, and after hearing you guys don’t like me as much as I thought, I’m going to sleep, and try to think happy thoughts.”  
  
“I have something to create those ‘happy thoughts’, but you’ll have insert your own batteries. Someone stole mine.”  
  
Dick took off his mask, glared at Jason with slight disgust, and then headed to the changing chamber.  
  
“Always the drama queen,” Jason said.  
  
Jason found himself in disbelief. “I can’t believe I won. Truthfully, I’ve never won against Dickiebird before, especially like that. Now what should I make him do?”  
  
“If you ask me, it was a hallow victory,” Tim answered.  
  
“A victory is a victory, don’t knock it. This is our chance, Tim. We can make Dickiebird do anything we want. He said it — we both know him well — he won’t back out!”  
  
“Anything within reason, of course. But you have a point. What I went through with the laxative was horrible.” Tim mused a moment. “You both came from acrobatic backgrounds, but Dick is a master trapeze artist, so making him do anything related to that, for example, like pole dancing or strip-teasing is out of the question to humiliate him. He’d like that. Especially after he went undercover at a strip club that time. Even after he closed the case, and helped the owner foil the fraudsters who were blackmailing him and other clubs in the entertainment strip, he decided to strip part-time for fun, I was told. But when Barbara and some of her friends who just happened on the club one night saw him, I was told by he couldn’t look Barbara or any of her friends in the eyes for weeks — completely embarrassed.”  
  
“Yeah, I was told that, too. But stripping Dickiebird naked and sending him out into the cold night isn’t something I would do. I want to get even, and I would get flank from Bruce if I did something like that. But there’s no rush. You heard Dickiebird, he has to do whatever I tell him to do.”  
  
“Within reason that is,” Tim said repeated.  
  
Jason nodded. “Yeah, nothing dramatic — but I’ll think of something.”  
  
“I have a few things to finish up before joining you on patrol with you,” Tim said. “I’ll find your position with the GPS when I’m ready. I was running a program late last night and the stubborn thing crashed this morning.”  
  
“What a cat-astrophy,” Jason said thinly, hinting back at Cat Women’s prior hacking of the Batcomputer.  
  
“Would you mind if I say something, Jason? And I want to be very honest with you.”  
  
“Go ahead, Timmy. I’m all ears.”  
  
Tim took a breath. “Go…”  
  
And the remaining two words out of Tim Drake’s mouth made Jason roar out with laughter.  
  
x x x  
  
Dick Grayson slowly opened his eyes after a few hours of deep sleep. The bowl of cereal he ate just before crawling into bed was enough to loll him off to la-la-land.  
  
With Bruce gone, he resided at Wayne Manor. Alfred always had his personal room prepared, unlike Jason, who had to sleep in the guest quarters whenever he stayed over, which was where Alfred said he helped Jason to after the taxi  Dick called arrived at the manor; Jason drunk-as-a-skunk; Dick phoning Alfred after the fact to tell him about it.  
  
And with that two-tone hair of his, the analogy suited him. Jokingly, Dick periodically spoke french to him, and called him _peppy_ , and, _un skunk de pew_ , after the cartoon skunk by the same name, not only because of his hair, but also because he smelled like an ashtray most of the time. It was payback for calling him Dickiebird. Dick didn’t necessarily mind it, he had nicknames for every member of the Batfamily. But it was fun to see Jason’s face every time he said it.  
  
_Call it a sinister joy_ , he thought.  
  
In being at the manor, he wagered he was a baby-sitter for Tim and Damian. And knowing how much they fought, the boys needed guidance and father-figure while Bruce as away. Both were under-age to do mostly everything — smoke, drink, and drive. And Jason as a bad influence on them. But he didn’t mind being here because he liked spending time with them. His apartment was just that, an apartment. But Wayne Manor was his forever home.  
  
Sitting up, he yawned and stretched his muscles.  
  
He had to admit, last night was a little boring even for him, too. The others finally admitted they were a little annoyed with him stalking them in the field and hugging them, playing either bad jokes or telling them. But that was part of the fun, and he’d continue to do so. Too bad! Besides, it was best to give ‘big brother’ what he wanted.  
  
_Am I selfish in thinking this way? No, I’m just showing affection for my family, like a brother would. And also teasing them, like a big brother would._  
  
He slipped his feet to the floor, and then suddenly found himself looking at his thighs, then his arms, stomach, and chest — his muscles were taunt, but he had an awfully lot of scars after years of crime fighting. Scars of war, he thought. He was proud to be a protector of Gotham City. However, at moments, he wished he had a method to eliminate some of the worse looking ones on his body.  
  
While Kory or Barbara didn’t care what he looked like when they were together, in recent years, he began to feel a little self-conscious of just how many scars he had on his body and some of the scar-tissue had made him twinge at the worse possible moments. Rehabilitation was key after a major injury, but the body could only recoup so much without skin grafts or surgery. He was lucky he wasn’t scared on his face like Harvey Two-Face.  
  
He was known as the pretty-boy crime fighter, and albeit narcissistic, he wanted to keep it that way.  
  
And yes, even he had to admit, he had a pretty nice looking butt, as many criminals often complimented him on. Skin tights often showed off his best features, he could hide nothing. Yet against, there was nothing to hide.  
  
Slipping out of bed, Dick walked into on-suite bathroom, and two-minutes later after relieving himself, came out, and began to get dressed. As he did so, he thought of Jason, and what did may have planned for him to do? Nothing too risqué, he hoped. He didn’t think so, Jason wasn’t like that. But, if Jason’s ‘gift’ was any indication, he wouldn’t put it past his laud, drinking, smoking, sometimes vulgar, taller, yet younger brother.  
  
Dick shook his head in disbelief. “Of all the ways to lose a fight. Defeated by flatulence. Well, there’s always a first for everything.” He knew Jason would brag about this ‘win’ for weeks. Of course, he would twist it into something bigger than it was, too. “Okay, I’ll give him some bragging rights for now.”  
  
He was just putting on a shirt when a knock came at his bedroom door. “Door’s open, come in.”  
  
Alfred entered, always dressed proper, always confident, but he was more than the Wayne family butler. He was also a mentor, a teacher, and friend to every member of the Wayne household. “Master Dick, I’m pleased you’re awake. Did you sleep well? You asked for a two o’clock wake-up call.”  
  
“Like a little baby robin, Alfie. Thanks.” Dick smiled. “Is Damian still asleep?”  
  
“Yes, and I tried to wake him before coming here, but he grumbled something under his breath, and then threw a pillow at me, and crawled under his sheets. I thought it best to make a strategic retreat.”  
  
“Best let the boy sleep. He deserves it.”  
  
Dick noticed Alfred holding a letter, but it didn’t appear to be registered mail. It had some sort of barely readable writing on it, but it was addressed to him.  
  
“For me?”  
  
“From Master Jason, sir,” Alfred said, handing it to him. “He asked it be hand delivered to you when you awake.”  
  
“Couldn’t he do that himself? You’re not Jason’s messenger boy.”  
  
Dick found it was sealed. Confused, he opened it with a letter opener Alfred had brought, giving it back, and then took out the letter. Definitely Jason’s chicken-scratch hand writing. But it was not a letter, instead it was a map and a note indicating where to meet him — in the commercial district in Gotham City.  
  
And it said to come in costume. And don’t use the radio.  
  
“Why the Clock and Dagger, Alfred?” Dick handed the note to Alfred to read.  
  
Alfred shrugged his shoulders, said, “I’m often befuddled by Master Jason’s amorphous state of mind.”  
  
And Dick agreed.  
  
Alfred looked at the note curiously, and then twisted it every which way imaginable. Dick produced a thin smile.  
  
After a few moments, Alfred shook his head in a disappointing manner. “Tsk, tsk! Master Jason has such messy handwriting. I’m afraid you’re going to have to decipher this for me, sir. I’m afraid I don’t speak ancient hieroglyphics.”

 

_To Be Continued..._


	3. Jason's Sentimentality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freeze has learned Jason's secret; Lazarus Pit; and demands to know its location, or he'll destroy Gotham City with a new weapon he calls Ice Acid - a vicious compound that eats everything it comes in contact with. He wants to revive his wife, Nora. The Bat Family must band together to stop Freeze or risk everything! (Sequel to my short story 'A Matter of Trust')

Jason Todd pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a lighter. He stood near the edge of a low-rise building that housed a jewelry store within. On the roof was a large billboard that advertised some sort of hand-cream. The building looked across a busy two way street to a series of store fronts and apartment buildings that catered to a variety of different enterprising venues and even low-income rental lofts.  
  
Dusk had come, and Jason was unmasked — his two-tone hair whisking in the wind. He had black hair with a more than a tuff of bleached white in front. Some say when a person is so frightened, they experience what’s less-known as a Marie Antoinette syndrome, where a portion or the whole of a person’s hair turns white from fright. It was said, the night before Marie Antoinette’s execution, her hair turned completely white from fright. She was the Queen of France during the French Revolution.  
  
The same could be said about Jason’s hair, but he put no stock in the theory. After he was resurrected, he suffered such a stock that part of his hair turned white. He had dyed it, even dressed up as Nightwing once to trick a band of criminals. But that part of his hair turned white once more. So, he left it.  
  
It gave his hair some character than the simple jet-black, he thought. And it was also a reminder to never forget his past. The downside was he looked like a skunk.  
  
And Dick’s taunts of _Peppy Le Pew_ in French every once in a while stuck in his craw.  
  
Jason would then pay his taunts back in kind by delivering his field reports over the comm-system in his perfected and patented Donald Duck voice.  
  
It always made Bruce laugh, but it annoyed the others.  
  
_Comme ci comme ça_ , as the French say. Neither here nor there, or one turn deserves another.  
  
Gotham City seemed quiet tonight, and there was nothing that needed the BatFamily to intervene. Drake was swinging around somewhere, surveying the streets. The guy was a workhorse, Jason thought.  
  
The pair had been on patrol for nearly eight hours and they took turns searching the normal hot spots of criminal hideaways, like back alleys, the docks and wharfs, and abandoned buildings, places of that nature, but nothing of significance — no Rouges — were active tonight. That wasn’t to say they hadn’t caught a few people engaging in petty thievery and stuff like that, but they were small fry.  
  
He had grabbed a bite to eat from a street vendor from the street below before he stationed himself on the roof, and now smoked an after dinner cigarette. But Tim’s food was getting cold. He had told the kid he’d bought food, but Drake said he’d eat later.  
  
Jason took a last puff from his cigarette and then flicked it over the edge of the building. As the butt flew, he heard the sound of a tether rope and the thump of a person landing on the roof behind him. He took a glance of his watch. It was now seven in the evening, but he hadn’t expected Dick Grayson — Nightwing — any sooner than now.  
  
“Sorry, I would’ve been here sooner, but I had a few things to do before our secret rendezvous tonight,” Nightwing said. “Not like you to be so mysterious. I half expected sneezing powder to be hiding in the sealed envelope you had Alfred pass to me. Certainly not a map and a message that said: Come in costume and no radio contact. But just like you to turn off your GPS. Always the outlaw, eh Jason?”  
  
Jason turned. “Yup, that’s good ol’ me…Gassy Grayson,” he said with a smirk.  
  
Nightwing put up a warning finger. “Don’t start that again,” he said sternly. “The joke had its moment. Besides, I’m not the one who ruined a perfectly good mental exercise.”  
  
“Fine,” he said. “Oh, by the way, seven out of ten marks on the artist job with the vibrator. But you do realize the minute you did that you rendered it unusable.”  
  
“Yup, but it can still be inserted forcefully into an unnamed body cavity if you call me Gassy Grayson again.”  
  
“Fair enough,” Jason said, and turned back.  
  
He gazed out in the cityscape once more, his hair whipped in a cold breeze that suddenly whisked by.  
  
“Before you ask what’s with all the secrecy, I requested you come here tonight for a personal reason, but in costume.” He waved Nightwing over. He pointed to a rundown looking building two streets over. It was a tall, reddish brick building overlooking the sleeve part of town. “This is special place to me. That’s where Bruce first found me, smoking and living in squaller after my parents died. It’s almost the anniversary of their deaths. The note was a little stupid and cloak-and-dagger, but I wanted you here to see it one last time. I just heard a city developer purchased the building and is tearing it down to build a condo starting tomorrow.”  
  
It was Dick’s night off, but he was glad he was here at the moment. Nightwing put a hand on Jason’s shoulder in support, he knew it was hard for Jason. So much had happen to him. He was never one to be sentimental, but Jason had his moments. Was ‘come in costume’ in the note a way of saying, “Thank you for saving me?” in lieu of Batman (Bruce) being away? Dick Grayson, the older brother, had to fill the slot.  
  
Dick stood in silence for a moment with Jason. “I’ll tell you a secret. Did you know I told Bruce I wanted to adopt you after the events that occurred. Your parents were killed by Harvey Two-Face, and you came from a similar background like me. But you were so angry, you hated the world, and everyone in it. He was concerned. And Bruce knew you needed help channeling your deep rage, help I couldn’t give you. So he adopted you instead and took you under his wing. He cares for you very much, even when you’re a complete and total ass — Little Wing.”  
  
Nightwing tried to lighten the mood, but Jason gave him a slightly annoyed look. “Right back at you, Dickiebird.”  
  
Both smiled.  
  
“Anyway, thanks for coming. Appreciate it. I also have an ulterior motive for asking you here.”  
  
“Are you going to make me do something stupid to humiliate me in some way, Jason? Not everything is on the table, even though I said I couldn’t say no.”  
  
“I wouldn’t make you do anything against your principles. I know my limits and I know your morals. I’ve had a lot of time to think it, and what I really want you to do is…”  
  
Suddenly the quiet night was shattered with a loud crash of broken glass and destruction, and the earthquake-like shaking of the building both of them were standing on. Then came a serious of screams fleeing pedestrians down below who ran from the fear of terror. Sentimentality had gotten the better of them and they hadn’t even noticed what had abruptly come into their midsts via a white coloured van parked two cars back on the street.  
  
They both gave the other a shocked glance as they witnessed who was robbing the jewelry store below them. The air suddenly became frosty with ice mist and the entire store front of the building had been destroyed by an attack from specialized formula of pressurized, crystallized ice.  
  
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Jason said.  
  
“When did he get out of Arkham?” Nightwing shared in the awe. “He has gull.”  
  
“I think you mean balls.”  
  
The communicator in Nightwing’s mask beeped and he touched the side of it to answer. At the same time, Jason’s wrist communicator beeped and Red Robin’s voice came through. They were both getting the same message. “Guys — trouble in the commercial district. Police dispatch have an APB out for Victor Fries who just escaped from Arkham with some girl. He just blasted his way into a jewelry store in your area. I can see you’re already there on the GPS.”  
  
“We noticed,” Jason replied.  
  
“Rendezvous here for a plan of attack, RR,” Nightwing ordered.  
  
“Acknowledged.”  
  
“And it was such a quiet night, too,” Jason said. “Why do megalomaniacs always spoil things?”  
  
“Need I have to explain why they’re called megalomaniacs?”  
  
“Point taken.”  
  
Within less than a minute, Red Robin swung onto the roof with a tether rope from beyond their immediate sight, and landed with a soft thud. He joined Jason and Nightwing on the edge of the roof and looked down. “So, how do you want to handle this?” he asked. “Guns blazing or do we have an intelligent strategy?”  
  
Nightwing knew that was an obvious a quip at Jason as he often liked to shoot first and ask questions later. Jason used two powerful automatic handguns, amongst a variety of other weaponry — but his handguns were his favourite. More than once, Jason had destroyed valuable evidence after shooting things up like some sort of gunslinger.  
  
Jason unholstered his guns and cocked like with his thumbs like a pro. Tim had his answer. He then slid his helmet on and locked the side clips with the butt of his guns. “Time to say hello!”  
  
Nightwing took out a Wingding from a utility thigh pouch he had recently taken to wearing, his Escrima Sticks firmly in their slots in holsters on his back, and then said, “We’ll announce ourselves with a three prong attack. We’ll corner him in the store, securing the situation quickly, allowing for the lest amount of property damage.”  
  
“I hope the owner of the store has property insurance,” Jason sad. “‘Cos after this, he’d going to need it.”  
  
“I said the ‘lest’ amount of property damage, Jason. We’re subject to audits just like every one else. Bruce has clot within the upper echelons and the GCPD, but people do from time to time blame us for damages to city property. And Bruce has to pay out insurance money when a Rogue attacks, being owner of several different insurance companies. I’d like to keep costs low this time, okay?”  
  
“Your funeral if you worry more about property damage than the hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of jewels in the store. Let’s stop Freeze, and then go for a drink.”  
  
“I’m underaged,” Tim said.  
  
“I know, but it’s lonely drinking alone…”  
  
Nightwing gave him a hardened stare.  
  
“Right. Later. Okay then.”  
  
“Jason, head down the roof access and block the rear of the building. RR, you across to the building opposite and way for my signal. I’ll tether down the side of the building and get Mr. Freeze’s attention with a smoke bomb. Ready?”  
  
“Mark!” all three sounded.  
  
And they went their separate ways.

 

_To Be Continued..._


	4. Freeze's New Weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freeze has learned Jason's secret; Lazarus Pit; and demands to know its location, or he'll destroy Gotham City with a new weapon he calls Ice Acid - a vicious compound that eats everything it comes in contact with. He wants to revive his wife, Nora. The BatFamily must band together to stop Freeze or risk everything! (Sequel to my short story 'A Matter of Trust')

Mr. Freeze encased in his heavy duty, self-pressurized ice suit and dome helmet, stepped over glass and debris, crushing everything underfoot with heavy reinforced steel boots. He carried with him his massive Ice Gun, so aptly named because it fired blasts of ice. The jewelry store was mere paper machete to his whims and the barred-up store was no match for a uniquely concentrated ice blast.  
  
Joining him was a pretty, young lady, wearing a white, low-cut, feather collar winter coat, with white stockings, and knee-high, high-heel silvery covered boots, with blonde-slivery hair.   
  
As Nightwing held a tether line, he peaked out just beyond the damage to the front of the store done by the ice blast,  trying to remain discreet. He had to admit, this young lady was very nice on the eyes. But why would she be hanging with a master criminal like Freeze? And yet, the same question he poised about Harley Quinn, the psychotic fanatic that always hung around Joker. Maybe she had a screw loose as well?  
  
Nora Fries, Freeze’s wife was still in cryogenic status awaiting Freeze to find a cure for her disease in hospital. Nora Fries was diagnosed with Stage 4 MacGregor’s Syndrome. It was a horrible disease whereas the lungs fill up with fluid making it hard to breath. But over the years Freeze had spent less time developing a cure and engaging in criminal activities. And this break and enter was no exception.  
  
Freeze sported a newer, younger look, with a new flasher hair style — a white mohawk of sorts, accompanying his goggle-type glasses. The criminal even looked younger. He had managed to reverse the aging process? Knowing his condition — his blood, organs, and veins were all mutated after an unfortunate accident where he fell into a vat of cryogenic fluid altering his physiology. He couldn’t survive in a normal environment like other humans. His normal body temperature was 50 below after an accident.   
  
Had he found a way to use his condition to reverse the aging process much like Ra’s al Ghul did with the Lazarus Pit? _A lot of women would love to learn that secret,_ he mused humorously to himself.  
  
Freeze had been in Arkham Asylum for the last year or so. The last time he had seen Freeze, he looked must older. Now he looked a lot younger, muscular, and his suit was more ostentatious and slimmer.   
  
Nightwing didn’t like unknowns, so he had to be careful now. A smarter, faster, sleeker Mr. Freeze was dangerous. He hadn’t kept up on the latest beauty tips at the neighbouring Arkham Asylum boutique.  
  
Batman got up-to-date reports from the Gotham City Police Department and Correctional Services on every Rogue in Arkham and none of the reports indicated Freeze had begun any form of new exercise or anti-aging regime. Ice preserved many things. Did this mean the criminally insane, too?  
  
Nightwing had initially planned to throw a smoke bomb into the store to distract Freeze and then the attack would begin, but now he thought against it, and put the Wingding away.   
  
He spoke quietly, knowing the others were listening: “He’s different, guys…” he said, lightly touching his mask and the comm built into it. “Freeze is different. We’re going to have to vary our attack methodology.” There was only one way to melt ice and that was with heat. But with Freeze’s reinforced suit, getting to him was going to be difficult.  
  
“Acknowledged,” Red Robin replied.   
  
But Jason didn’t answer.  
  
Freeze smashed the display cases to get at the jewels.   
  
His lady friend stood near by and out of the way, awaiting instructions. By the look on her pretty face, she was gitty, watching Freeze destroy the cabinets and display cases; glass mixed with diamonds as both collapsed to the floor. Of course, Nightwing’s mask had a mini camera and both Tim and Jason could see everything happening in real time;  Tim through a wrist projection unit and Jason via inside his red helmet.  
  
“Wow! She’s hot!” Drake said through the comm-system. “But she could be Freeze’s grand-daughter.”  
  
Dick agreed. Freeze’s new fling could be his grand-daughter — even Tim’s age. Was he changing up for someone younger? Could that be the reason for the new sleeker look?  
  
This was an unusual venue for Freeze and a bottleneck for him, normally he liked opened spaces. He was a big guy in his suit, and the jewelry store wasn’t very large. However, Nightwing knew a cornered dog was a vicious animal and Freeze was a vicious creature in every rite. Sooner or later, there would be a police presence, so they had to get control of the situation quickly before Freeze had multiple targets to attack. Nightwing knew the less the better for a greater success of victory against Freeze, especially with his Ice Gun.  
  
“Rebecca, gather these jewels up quickly,” Freeze ordered, in his gruff, echoing voice. His helmet had to be airtight, so his voice came out of a voice box in his chest armour. “There is much to take here. Don’t cut your hands!”  
  
“Sure, _Freezie-baby,_ ” Rebecca, as Nightwing now knew her as, said in a child-like voice. She sounded like she could be a senior in high-school or a freshman in college. She had the look of it anyway.  
  
Rebecca rushed to collect some nylon carry bags the store just happened to be sporting that were hanging on metal hooks behind a cabinet on the wall as novelty items, also a small dust pan and brush near-by. Suddenly, as if spotting something out of the corner of her eye, she looked in Nightwing’s direction, and stopped.  
  
She smirked. “Ohhhh…Freezie-baby. Looks like we have company. Ice Bats.”  
  
“Ice Bats?” Freeze echoed.  
  
Freeze turned in the direction Rebecca was looking, she pointed directly at Nightwing.  
  
Nightwing dropped to the ground, reached for a Wingding, and returned to his original idea. He threw the smoke bomb into the store. But Freeze was quick with his Ice Gun and fired a blast, icing the Wingding cold in its tracks, shattering it in mid-flight. Freeze then took aim at Nightwing — and fired again!  
  
Nightwing using his acrobat skills and flipped out of the way of the blast and the subsequent blasts thereafter and with quick-handed strikes threw more Wingdings at Freeze as he went along. Some of which got through. One exploded on impact, directly onto Freeze’s chest armour. For a moment, the smoke blinded the villain’s vision. Even in his ‘fishbowl’ helmet if he couldn’t see, he couldn’t aim.  
  
But Nightwing knew Freeze’s reinforced armour was very strong and not even his Windding’s could penetrate it.  
  
“Ah! You damn, blasted, flying monkey! Too many times have you foiled my plans! You and Batman!” Freeze waved the smoke away from his face.  
  
“If I _were_ a monkey, Freeze, good thing I didn’t throw something else at you! Red Hood, now!  
  
As if on cue, and in response to Nightwing’s call, Red Hood kicked down the back door of the jewelry store, and burst out a barrage of fire, aiming directly at Mr. Freeze. Nightwing jumped out of the line of fire. Jason appeared to fire like a maniac, not caring who or what he was shooting at. However, with the targeting system in his helmet, Nightwing wagered, Jason was aiming with cause. He’d never purposely act irresponsibly especially with friend in the line of fire.  
  
But Freeze acted quickly and blasted a retaliatory counter-attack shattering the bullets in mid-air. They flew through the air, clanged to the ground, and shattered like shards of weak glass.  
  
Then Freeze fired at the door, forcing Jason to jump out of the way behind one of the display cabinets.  
  
Jason launched another barrage from behind the cabinet and fired again. Again, the bullets were intercepted by an ice blast. And again, he had to leap out of the way to avoid a sonic freeze blast from the Ice Gun. The concussion from the blast launched the cabinet he had been behind against the wall, shattering it like crushed ice.  
  
“Cold reception, Freeze!” Jason said. “Whose the hottie in the low skirt?”  
  
“The young lady in question is my helper,” Freeze said coolly. “She was instrumental in freeing me from Arkham. And hence, I paid her in kind and gave her employment.”  
  
“Employment? Really? Is that was people are calling ‘it’ these days,” Jason said with innuendo, “but…if you ask me, you need someone younger, sweetheart, say me… So, what’re doing, say, five o’clock tonight?”  
  
Rebecca looked repulsed, making a disgusting face. “I don’t date vigilante jackasses.”  
  
“Boy, your taste in men is really screwed up then if you’ve hooked up with Chilly Willy here.”  
  
“Everyone,” Nightwing said. “Focus on defeating Freeze! Not the girl!”  
  
Freeze fired his Ice Gun in Jason’s direction as if in direct response to Jason’s flirtation, and again, Jason leapt out of the way of the blast. But room was getting limited. There was broken furniture and smashed glass everywhere and not much to duck behind.  
  
“Heads up!” came a voice in both Nightwing and Jason’s comms.  
  
Red Robin came soaring into the open demolished store front making a dramatic entrance to the fray. His jet-pack and ruby, stylish wings allowed him to fly into the store like a majestic bird, and to land with the ease. It was another one of Drake’s renown and unique invented toys. It had taken him months to prefect the dynamics and wingspan, but much like Wilver and Orville Wright who were accredited with the invention of the first successful airplane, he did it.  
  
“Freeze, Freeze!” he shouted. “Or, we’ll put you on ice!”  
  
Jason laughed short. “Nice one, kid!”  
  
Nightwing put a hand to his forehead. “That was bad pun even by my standards, kid.”  
  
“Such pedantic humour,” Freeze said. Freeze looked around. The store had been basically destroyed by the battle, the furniture in shambles, the floor littered with shards of glass and broken wood and steel, and jewels, and his enemies surrounded him. “Three birds, but no bat? Where is Batman?”  
  
“We are ones you need to be worried about, Freeze,” Nightwing said, now wielding his Escrima Sticks. He had had small, indiscriminate loop straps on the back of his uniform to hold them in place when he needed his hands free. Jason stood up, guns pointed at Freeze. And Red Robin now held his bow staff and he twirled it twice to intimidate.   
  
“There’s no where for you to go, Freeze!” Red Robin proclaimed. “Surrender now!”  
  
Freeze held his Ice Gun at the ready. “How shall we play this? Three against one are not fair odds,” he said. “Mind you, I do have my companion…”  
  
If she was anything like Harley Quinn, Nightwing had to watch her. Was she as deranged? That was yet to be determined. But if she was with Freeze, she had to have a screw-loose. Red Robin was closest to her, and he took a more than normal glance at her before refocusing on Freeze. Nightwing knew the look, it was the look of a young man interested in a pretty, young girl — a physical attraction.  
  
“Focus, Red Robin,” Nightwing chided him.  
  
“Right, sorry.”  
  
Jason just seemed to ignore her, believing her to be no threat.   
  
At the moment, Nightwing would have to agree. She seemed just that, as Freeze’s helper.  
  
Freeze seemed to chuckle under his breath as if privy to something the rest were unaware. “But it’s a new world, my little robins, and enemies are everywhere, ever adapting to a volatile environment. _Now,_ Rebecca!”  
  
This was when it happened. Something Nightwing had never seen in all his years of crime fighting. Rebecca reached underneath her skirt and pulled something out — something that she had been hiding in concealment in a place no-one thought anything would be placed. And the sheer amazement triggered awe-struck from Red Robin, his mouth-dropped, aghast, and if Nightwing could see Jason’s mouth, he’d probably share the same sentiment.  
  
Nightwing thought he had seen it all, but nothing like this, and the gun Rebecca pulled out from where she reached, only gave Nightwing the slightest margin to react — as she quickly fired the small gun she held at Red Robin.  
  
But what came out wasn’t bullets, it looked more like a white gummy-substance. And it spattered on the chest of Red Robin’s costume, creating a spatter effect much like a paint-ball gun pellet would stain the front of a gamers vest.  
  
She only fired the once.  
  
Nightwing was ready to pounce, but the shot and result caused him to pause for a moment in confusion.   
  
_She fired gum at Red Robin? Was this a joke?_  
  
Red Robin put a hand to the gummy-substance. “Is this chewing gum?”  
  
“A far cry from that, Red Robin,” Freeze rebuked, and he seemed to chuckle knowing a dark secret.  
  
Suddenly Red Robin’s hand flicked away. “ _Ow!_ It burns!” He looked at the finger-tips of his gloves and his fingers felt like they were on fire. Just then, his cross-belts across the chest dropped to the floor, the polymer alloy had been eaten away by the gummy-substance. “ _Ow!_   What the hell is this stuff?”  
  
Drake tried to pull his body suit away from his chest, the substance felt like acid burning his skin beneath.  
  
“It’s burning right through my suit!” His gloves were now completely fingerless and his finger-tips red, and the instant he touched the gummy substance he hissed in pain, instantly recoiling his hands away.   
  
_Acid or a some form of dried-ice?_ Nightwing wondered.  
  
Red Robin pulled, and pulled, and pulled at his uniform, but the more he did, the more the substance spread, and burned. “Help me! Get this stuff off me!”  
  
Nightwing went to help, but Freeze told him if he touched it, it would spread to him as well. It was a metamorphosing compound that reacted to any substance, adapting, and ate away until there was nothing left.  
  
Red Robin put a hand up, halting Nightwing, and even to Jason. “Stop! I can’t let it get on you, too!”  
  
He had no choice. Dropping his bow staff, he unsnapped his waist belt which held the remainder of his jet pack and fight-wing weight, dug his nails deep into the substance and open eaten area of his chest armour, his face reacting from the horrid pain he much have felt from the acid burning into his hands, and tore the upper portion asunder, ripping it off his body, like a man tearing a phone book apart. Using every once of strength he had to do so. Once off, the substance continued to eat away at his costume on the ground, as if acting like some sort of chemical piraña. He also quickly tore off his gloves too.  
  
But the end result was ghastly, and both Red Robin’s chest and hands looked like that had been acidly burned. They were red, cracked and bleeding. And Drake had a look on his face that put him in a shock-like state. If Drake hadn’t had his mask on, tears would probably be flowing down the teen’s face.   
  
He looked at Nightwing, his mouth agape — a voice silent in utter shell-shock.  
  
“Oh my god!”  
  
Nightwing immediately ran over, holstered his Escrima Sticks. Jason followed suit, covering them, a gun pointed at  each Freeze and Rebecca, very carefully watching Rebecca now. She seemed the more dangerous one now with that small crazy gun. She had the gun at the ready, ready to fire once more. But Freeze put an arm out to Rebecca, as if allow them to take a moment to help their injured comrade.  
  
Nightwing almost said Drake’s name in response as he looked at the kid’s ghastly, acidic eaten skin, but quickly stopped himself. He didn’t know what to do. It almost acted like kind of a flesh-eating disease. Drake’s mouth quaked with shock as his hands clawed up, and Nightwing was reluctant to touch him. He had never seen anything like this.  
  
“What the f#$% is that stuff, Freeze?” Jason demanded.  
  
Freeze reached into a pouch attached to his utility belt and pulled out what looked like a bullet. It wasn’t like a typical bullet, it was something else and it belonged to Rebecca’s gun.   
  
Rebecca opened the back of gun and removed an empty cartridge similar in appearance to what Freeze held now. She loaded the new cartridge into the gun and snapped the compartment shut.  
  
Freeze held up the empty cartridge, as if to admire it. He then said: “This gentlemen is my newest invention, and I call it Ice Acid. Within one of these cartridges contains a chemical compound that acts similar to liquid nitrogen or dried ice, but I enhanced its proportions enormously. It will burn into anything. Nothing can withstand it, especially human skin, as Red Robin’s fingers and chest clearly demonstrate. Unfortunately its life-span is limited.”  
  
Drake swore. Normally Drake chastised others when nasty language was used, but now it was different.  
  
“Take it easy, kid,” Jason said. He reached into a pouch he had attached into his weapons belt and pulled out a tube of hydrocortisone cream. “Spread this everywhere it hurts. I use it on my hands when I fire my guns without gloves. It’ll soothes the burns until further medical treatment can be administered.”  
  
Nightwing grabbed the tube. Drake’s hands were like claws and knew he couldn’t grip it. Opening the tube, he squirted as much as he could into his gloved hands and them spread the steroid cream all over Drake’s hands and chest area. Drake trembled as he did it.   
  
The pain was so great that Drake said he felt like he was going to faint.

 

_To Be Continued..._


	5. The Joker's Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freeze has learned Jason's secret; Lazarus Pit; and demands to know its location, or he'll destroy Gotham City with a new weapon he calls Ice Acid - a vicious compound that eats everything it comes in contact with. He wants to revive his wife, Nora. The BatFamily must band together to stop Freeze or risk everything! (Sequel to my short story 'A Matter of Trust')

Rebecca gawked, her jaw dropped, frozen in place like some Greek statue at what she was witnessing. She couldn’t believe the seemingly erotic picturesque moment that was playing out before her like something she only dreamt about in her fantasies or something in the beginning of an x-rated movie.  
  
She reached between her breasts and retrieved her cell phone where she had placed it before the caper began, one felt naked without one’s cellphone these days, and took a snapshot of the scene — the scene showing the already dreamy Nightwing rubbing white cream all over the younger Red Robin’s chest.  
  
“ _Oh…My…God!_ ” Each word was spoken in different breaths. “This is beyond hot! My friends on Instagram will never believe this!” she said. “This will go instantly go viral! The Internet will explode!”  
  
Freeze looked at her strange. He couldn’t fathom young people these days and their addiction to social media, their fantasies concerning celebrities — if the Batman’s family could be called such in Gotham City — and with their obsession with documenting everything around them only for their stupid mistakes to come back to haunt them in later years. _Heroes now celebrities,_ what a bizarre thought.  
  
“Enough childish antics, Rebecca,” Freeze said. “Focus on the task at hand. You’ll have plenty of time to engage with your friends online later.”  
  
Nightwing witnessed Rebecca return her cell to between her breasts, it wasn’t a place where he would want to go rummaging without creating a stir. But after everything was said and done, he would have to confiscated that phone. He didn’t care if she had taken a picture while he was in a compromising position with Red Robin, he was secure with his sexuality. But the world of media was a crazy place these days. Anything can be doctored to make it appear like something it never originally was. And he was more worried about Drake’s impressionability.  
  
Nightwing removed his hands from Drake’s chest, his gloves covered with the white hydrocortisone cream. But the teen still seemed out of it, like he was in some sort of daze…the pain occupying his every thought.  
  
Suddenly Jason did something that shocked everyone, and slapped Drake across the face, and significantly hard with the back of his right hand. Drake’s head snapped to the left, then turned back, his teeth clenched in anger.   
  
“What the—“ He stopped short of swearing.  
  
“Thought you needed a wake-up call,” Jason said. “You looked like you were zoning out for a moment.”  
  
He was, but he quickly felt the cream working and soothing his burns. He looked at his hands and chest, but didn’t touch any area the cream was covering. Subsequently, he looked at Nightwing’s hands. They looked like he had just finished a gigantic vanilla ice cream cone but failed to get any of it in his mouth.  
  
“Thanks, it feels better now,” and Red Robin produced a small smile.  
  
He thanked Jason for bringing him back to reality, he wasn’t out of the fight yet.   
  
Nightwing suggested otherwise.  
  
“Are you ready for Round Two?” Freeze said, raising his Ice Gun. “You are no match for us!”  
  
“We’ve heard that before,” Jason said, switching his attention back to Freeze, his guns at the ready. But he also kept a close eye on Rebecca and the Ice Acid gun. “We’ll never yield!”   
  
Jason had one gun pointed at Freeze and the other at Rebecca. With one shot, he could probably take out the Ice Acid gun, but with his high-powered guns, he would probably kill Rebecca in the process, blowing a hole in her pretty little head the size of a softball. And he couldn’t do that. He kept hearing Batman’s cardinal rule in his ears:  No killing! And it took every once of mental strength not to make the easy choice to end the situation.  
  
But he was a vigilante, what did he care? But Rebecca was a pretty, young girl, in the prime of her life, and he didn’t want to take her life if there was an alternative. But he also didn’t want Drake or Dick to die either. He already knew what death was like, and it wasn’t something he wanted the others to experience.  
  
Besides, even though he was resurrected with the Lazarus Pit, he still had certain self-related issues he had to address as a result. People don't just come back from the dead without a price to pay. That sounded grim, but he had gone through something most people never should, and every time he thought of it, it frightened him. Because he knew what awaited humans when they die…  
  
So, he were at an impasse.   
  
Or were they?   
  
Freeze and Rebecca had some major firepower in their arsenal, and Jason had to admit the villains had the upper hand at the moment. The moment he began to fire, they would counter-attack, and with both the Ice Gun and the Ice Acid in the hands of two psychopaths, the odds did not look good in their favour.  
  
Red Robin whispered something to both Nightwing and Red Hood as they stood stand-offish. “Distract them; I have a plan,” he said. “We need do something now or they’ll escape.”  
  
Nightwing wanted to refuse, Red Robin was hurt, but opted to put faith in him. Ever the strategist, Red Robin always had a plan. With Escrima Sticks swinging in hand, he said, “Right! We can’t defeat them with brutal strength, they need to be disarmed. We need something else. Just do it quickly, whatever it is. Work you magic, RR.”  
  
Red Robin smiled, the faith his elder brother put in him gave him the strength to endure the pain he felt and press on. “I won’t let them down,” he said, and then mysteriously left the jewelry store.  
  
“Hood — you take Freeze. And I’ll take his newest sweetheart,” Nightwing said.  
  
“Just like you, Nightwing. You get all the girls!”  
  
Nightwing ignored the quip about his boyish charm and ordered the advance. “Go!”  
  
Jason fired a barrage of gun fire at Mr. Freeze, but when the bullets hit his metallic armour they just ricocheted off. Jason figured that would happen, but it didn’t stop him from continuing the attack to draw Freeze’s attention away from Nightwing, which was his plan. He had to give Nightwing the time he needed to get that Ice Acid gun away from Rebecca. That was the biggest threat at the moment.  
  
Freeze fired his Ice Gun. The blast shattered a large display case that Jason tried to duck behind knowing a counter-attack was imminent. In fact, he had been the last case left untouched in the store.  And it exploded with a massive denotation of flying glass and debris.   
  
Jason returned fire, but the bullets once again bounced off Freeze’s armour.  
  
“Your efforts are futile, Red Hood,” Freeze said. “I hold all the cards and all you hold is a useless joker!”  
  
Red Hood growled. The mention of the Joker pissed him off.  
  
“Yeah, but Jokers are often wild!”   
  
Jason set himself in place and fired his guns at Freeze again depressing the triggers like a madman from Hell. It was risky, but the attack actually forced Freeze to take a step back and put up an arm up to shield his transparent helmet. Like anyone, and regardless of a 99.9% assurance of complete invincibility, a 1% fear always resided within a person’s mind to create an uncertainty that anything could happen to penetrate their seemingly impenetrable armour.   
  
Obviously, this is what Freeze thought. And whether it was in a slip or a moment of panic, Freeze’s trigger finger of his gun sent a stream of blasted ice at the floor creating an ice patch.  
  
It was then Jason had an idea. He was often accused of being like a gunslinger — shoot first and ask questions later — but he didn’t care about the analogy. It got the job done.  
  
He didn’t think, and just ran, twisted his body to reside on his back, and slid towards Freeze, with both guns blazing. The sound of the bullets ricocheting off his armour was deafening, like the sound of heavy rain against a tin drum. But the end result was the better valour as the action took Jason directly to the villain.  
  
The shock of his reckless actions momentarily befuddled Freeze and it gave Jason the opening he needed to trip the massive villain using a scissor-like leg sweep, forcing the massive ice man to fall backwards.  
  
Freeze feel and landed with a heavy thud. Jason, using a move he had picked up in his youth, performed a break-dance manoeuvre, twisted his body, twirled, and landed on one knee, with one gun pointed at Freeze.  
  
“ _You’re on ice, and I’m on fire…I am the King of the Street!_ ” Jason said, reciting a line from an old rock song.  
  
Meanwhile, Nightwing clamped his Escrima Sticks into one bow staff with their internal magnetic clamps and twirled it quicker than the human eye could keep up, temporarily stunning Rebecca.   
  
She fired at Nightwing but missed, Nightwing easily avoiding the blast, and then backed off.   
  
That was when she had made a final error, Nightwing knew.  
  
She looked at Freeze on the floor. “Oh no! Freezie-baby!”  
  
“Best look after you’re on situation. You’re done, sweetheart. Did you think I wouldn’t catch on?”  
  
Rebecca pressed the trigger, but nothing happened. She depressed it again. Had the gun misfired? She looked down the barrel, eyes wide in disbelieve, and then put up her hands up in surrender as Nightwing’s bow staff came to rest an inch below her chin. One touch, and he could electrocute her.  
  
“Drop it! Now!”  
  
Rebecca did, and the Ice Acid gun landed with a clang.   
  
“I don’t understand,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with the gun.”  
  
“I figured it out,” Jason said. “It was so easy, a kindergarten kid would see it.” Jason was on his feet now, Freeze still lay on the floor seemingly dazed by his compromising position, one gun aimed at the villain’s protected dome and a leg pressing down on his gun arm. “Isn’t that right, _Freezie-baby?_ ”  
  
“You underestimate me, you simpleton!” Freeze grabbed Jason’s leg and yanked it hard, using his massive strength given to him by his armour to throw the hero afar and against a wall. Jason hit the wall hard and landed equally so.  
  
Freeze returned to his feet, Ice Gun in hand. “With my Ice Acid, I will use it to hold Gotham City hostage. But first, there is a matter here that must be addressed first, and it regards Red Hood.”  
  
Nightwing opened his mouth to question Freeze about that statement, when Red Robin suddenly returned and joined the fray. He now had in his hand what looked like a single trigger flamethrower with a fuel canister attached to the top. Nightwing immediately questioned him about it.  
  
“Told you I had a plan,” Drake said. Though it wasn’t some flashy scientific toy he normally used to defeat his enemies, Nightwing liked it. Simple and effective against ice. “While you two were distracting them, I ran to the hardware store down the street and picked this up. I got a few strange looks from people with all this cream on me, but hey, weird things come with the territory. By the way, we owe the store owner $1,500 bucks!”  
  
Nightwing smiled. “Nice! I’m sure we afford it. We’ll settle accounts with him later.”  
  
Freeze laughed. “You pathetic countenance is no match for my Ice Gun. Your stupidity is laughable!”  
  
“You misunderstand me, _Freezie-baby!_ ” Red Robin said in a mocking tone. “This isn’t for you!”   
  
Red Robin looked at Rebecca, but then saw the Ice Acid gun on the ground. Sometime while he was away, Freeze’s newest squeeze had been disarmed and probably by Nightwing who was standing nearest to her at the moment. At first he thought Rebecca was very attractive, but after she attacked him, he considered her beyond to his liking now.   
  
He warned Nightwing to move, and aimed — Rebecca away ran for cover — and he depressed the trigger.   
  
A stream of fire erupted from the barrel of the flamethrower and it engulfed the Ice Acid gun. He depressed the trigger for close to ten-seconds. The heat pressure was more than enough to make the weapon explode in a small fire ball.  
  
With gritted teeth, Freeze stared the heroes down with dagger-eyes behind his goggles with a look of sheer hatred and bloody murder at the sight of his newest weapon obliterated.  
  
Red Robin then turned the flamethrower to Freeze. “The math was rudimentary, Freeze. Your Ice Acid gun used a simple set of perimeters for a single capsule bullet. The size of the bullet was the key when you showed us. I may have been in pain at the time, but I can multi-task and watched the scene unfold. It could only fire once and then needed to reload. Most gamblers know, never show your hand.”  
  
“Clever and brilliant, remove the deadlier of two threats first,” Freeze admired.  
  
Red Robin tilted his head slightly. “Did you just compliment me for destroying your weapon?”  
  
“Quite so, and it is what I would’ve done in the same situation. You are obviously smarter than the rest, young Red Robin, and those that I associate with are very much aware of your special gifts — a master strategist, an excellent fighter, and a brilliant hacker. But, as you know, the simplest things drive most people to insanity.”  
  
Red Robin didn’t have a retort for that.  
  
Jason finally got to his feet after warding off the hurt his back felt when Freeze flung him against the wall, and he came to stand next to Rebecca, whom Nightwing now had in custody. Freeze looked at all three of them — Red Robin, Nightwing and Red Hood — and lowered his Ice Gun in temporary submission.  
  
“The Ice Acid was merely a bargaining chip, but obviously I am done here,” Freeze concluded. “My purpose here was to collect collateral to pay for information, but I believe my endeavour was nonetheless fruitful with the jewels. What I seek, in truth, cannot be purchased. However, the Batman — even Red Hood — may be privy to what I seek. A discovery I’ve made that may cure the worse diseases imaginable. Even resurrect the dead.”  
  
“What secret is this, Freeze?” Jason said. “I know no such secret.”  
  
“Don’t pay dumb. I may not know your secret identity behind that mask, but I do know of your history. Rumours circulate. And this includes an ancient community of secret dwellers in the snowy mountains of Switzerland. I believe you know exactly to what I refer to. It is a secret pool known simply as the ‘Lazarus Pit’, a godly pool of water in which even the dead can be resurrected and restored to a nature state.”  
  
Both Nightwing and Red Robin looked at each other.  
  
Red Hood gave no indication of surprise someone else knew of the Lazarus Pit.  
  
“I have spent countless years buried in science hoping I could find a cure for my wife’s illness. If the rumours are true, then the very thing I have sought for so many years can be mine.” Freeze clenched a fist. “I can breath life back into my sweet Nora’s body and remove her from a lifeless state.”  
  
“You’re mistaken, Freeze. You have the wrong guy,” Jason said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
  
Freeze produced a sinister grin. “Oh, I think you do. And you will give me what I want!” He raised his Ice Gun, but instead of pointing it at either one of his enemies, he set his sights on Rebecca. Rebecca’s eyes widened. “Forgive me, my dear. But your usefulness to me has come to an end. And considering my heart is a cold as ice, I never cared for your company. The memory of my wife is the only company I will ever need.”  
  
Nightwing knew what was coming, and shouted: “ _FREEZE! DON’T DO IT! JASON_...MOVE!”  
  
Red Hood had only an instant to leap out of the way before Freeze fired his Ice Gun at Rebecca. Instantly, the young girl was encased, crystallized and entombed as an ice sculpture — her human body ashen, her face shocked.  
  
Nightwing kicked Freeze’s gun out of his hand. The Ice Gun went flying across the room, and landed after bouncing a couple of times. Nightwing now had his Escrima Sticks separated, and with the press of a button on each he was prepared to use the shockers to deliver a devastating blow. He knew even a heavy enough shock to Freeze’s armour would put him down and his Escrima Sticks had enough voltage to take down the toughest animal.  
  
He clenched his teeth in sheer anger. “Why, Freeze, why? You didn’t have to kill her!”  
  
Freeze laughed. “She was but a pawn. But thank you for confirming my hypothesis. I am now convinced the Lazarus Pit exists. I needed proof, and when you called out his name — albeit accidental — that was all I needed.”   
  
“Name?” He looked at Jason. He accidentally called out Jason instead of Red or Hood. Nightwing cursed himself.  
  
Freeze eyed Red Hood with a devious grin.  “I was told you had died years ago as a child…but the rumours are true. You are still live! The Lazarus Pit does exist! I still have the Ice Acid. You will tell me your secret, Jason Todd — give me the secret to raise the dead, to make my Nora live again — or I will destroy Gotham City, and murder all its inhabitants! Its destruction and their deaths will be on your head!”  
  
Freeze plucked out a cartridge from a compartment in his suit. “The gun was merely a delivery system, but I don’t need it. I have much more where this came from store elsewhere and ready to be released remotely.”  
  
“You’re mad, Freeze!” Nightwing said.  
  
“True love makes any sane man do insane things. Well, hero? Is the joker still wild?”  
  
But Red Hood — Jason Todd — remained silent.

**_To Be Continued..._ **


	6. Settling Accounts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freeze has learned Jason's secret; Lazarus Pit; and demands to know its location, or he'll destroy Gotham City with a new weapon he calls Ice Acid - a vicious compound that eats everything it comes in contact with. He wants to revive his wife, Nora. The BatFamily must band together to stop Freeze or risk everything! (Sequel to my short story 'A Matter of Trust')

Behind his helmet, Jason was pissed. It was lucky his helmet hide his face. He had once been known as the scourge of Gotham, the man who eliminated the worst filth of Gotham City’s underworld, he did what Batman would not. And to those who knew him well, you never made the man behind the mask mad. Now it seemed his identity — his whole secrecy; and the existence of the Lazarus Pit — would be revealed, all thanks to a slip of the tongue by Grayson.  
  
“You want the truth, Freeze?” Jason said irate.  
  
Nightwing warned him silently with a finger gesture.  
  
Freeze smiled with a bright white toothy grin. “If you wish to save the child, then you will tell me what I wish to know!” He pointed at Rebecca, her face in shock with eternal fear at being flash frozen. “Call it a mutual exchange of information. She is not dead, but she will be if you do not thaw her out soon. One setting on my Ice Gun will revive her. But only a special code will unlock the settings to do that.”  
  
“To tell you the truth, let her die,” Jason said, shrugging his shoulders. “She means nothing to me. Told you before Freeze, you have the wrong guy. And these guys don’t know me. They just call me in because I’m better. I’m known in many circles as an eliminator. I do the dirty jobs they’re too afraid to do.”  
  
Jason thumbed Nightwing, who looked to have an ashen look of shock on his face. Good, Jason thought. “And this dumb pretty boy here, this dick of sorts, has no idea who I am. Someone once called me Jason because I act like Jason Voorhies from the Friday 13th movies, I kill without mercy. That’s who I am. I am the Red Hood.”  
  
“Um, yeah, right…” Nightwing nodded, and tried to sound convincing. “Come to think about it, that’s true. You do act like that crazy, murdering psychopath sometimes, so the name fits.” Nightwing gave a thin smile, playing to the lie.  
  
If only Dick could see Jason’s face at the moment, his eyes would be daggers at him.  
  
Nightwing refocused on Freeze. “Tell us how to save her now!” he demanded, showing Freeze the dancing voltage that flowed within his Escrima Sticks edges. “I won’t ask you again!”  
  
“Don’t mock me,” Freeze said. “There’s only one way you’d convince me you’re not Jason Todd. Show me your face!”  
  
Red Hood laughed. “Really? Is that all that’ll take to convince you that you’re dead wrong?”  
  
Red Hood slammed his guns down on a near-by smashed portion of a display case. Everyone looked. It was then he reached at the sides of helmet and unclipped the clasps and removed his helmet. His hair was two-toned, the front tuffs of his hair white, but he had another mask across his the upper portion of his face underneath. Nightwing breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it. When Jason left the roof, he wasn’t wearing his other mask. He must have put it on before he burst through the back door of the jewelry store.  
  
But why reveal his face? Why do what Freeze asked?  
  
“Ah yes, there it is…” Freeze pointed at Jason Todd’s face, specifically at the faded scar of a “J” on the upper portion of his left cheek. “The rumours were true. The Joker did scar you, Jason Todd. That means you were resurrected — truly remarkable! Joker beat you to within an inch of your life, he told me. He killed you! The Robin persona has been passed down to others, this is obvious. Nightwing was but the first, then you, then him, Red Robin, and then finally to another… But you died! Tell me! Tell me the secret of your rebirth!”  
  
Jason Todd approached Freeze. He had fury in his eyes. “You really want to know?”  
  
Freeze nodded. “Tell me! And I will give you anything! Anything your heart desires!”  
  
“You know, someone else also said he would give me anything I wanted, and he wouldn’t refuse,” Jason said. “But unlike him, you’re a dirty, rotten, lying bastard! My secret is simple: eat healthy and exercise. Sad to break it to you, Freeze, but Joker played you. You were suckered in by a clown! As for the scar on my face, nope, Joker didn’t do this — I did. I fell oddly down a slide when I was kid and did this to my face. And I have no idea who this Jason Todd guy is. Probably some random name Joker make up.”  
  
“No! The rumours are true! I know they are!”  
  
“Perhaps there is some truth to the secret of eternal life, Freeze, but I’m not a by-product of it. I’m just a man. Alive and well, and I have been for quite some time. But as for you, time for you to take a little nap…”  
  
Jason cocked his head to Nightwing and with touch of his Escrima Sticks at full power, he touched Freeze’s suit and the villain was jettisoned half way across the store, the voltage rocketing him like a flash of lightning in an instant. The crash damaged Freeze’s helmet and it began to leak moisture and gases that were generated by his ice suit.   
  
Nightwing and Jason came to stand over him. The villain was out cold, so to speak.  
  
“Is he down?” Red Robin asked, as he picked up Freeze’s gun, and opened a hidden panel within the top of the Ice Gun. There was touch screen that when accessed brought up a series of directives for use. Red Robin went to work on getting the code that would thaw Rebecca. “He knows your secret, Jason. This is a problem.”  
  
“Nah, no problem,” Jason said, waving off any concerns. “I think I put holes in his theory and Joker’s tell all.”  
  
“Let’s hope so,” Nightwing said. “Put your helmet back on, Jay.”  
  
“Sure, Dick,” he said, returning the lets-reveal-our-secret-identities favour. Lucky no one was around.  
  
“Sorry, I shouted your name out in the spur of the moment. But it saved your butt. I’ll be less of a dick next time.”  
  
Nightwing was about to say, “Let’s call Gotham City Police to collect him,” but when he glanced out the store entrance, as usual, the GCPD arrived, and after the fact. After all the action was over. But it was for the best. Freeze was not one for the normal police to tangle with, if Rebecca was an indication. Drake was still working on Freeze’s Ice Gun, but if anyone could hack his systems, he could.  
  
Cars screeched to a stop up to the front door, klaxons blaring, and cops exited the vehicles quickly, guns unholstered.  
  
Nightwing momentarily stepped outside and assured them that everything was okay and waved them in, pointing at the unconscious Mr. Freeze on the floor. About a dozen police officers swarmed the store like insects, every one with guns at the ready, and when seen, the first officers inside reacted with both shock and surprise at the sight of the sinister villain looking seemingly lifeless. With all incidents with the ‘Rogues’ as Commissioner Gordon once called them — the criminals that were above the pack, those who went rogue above and beyond normal criminality — Nightwing had to quickly explain the situation and justify the massive damage to the store.  
  
He hoped the owner had insurance.  
  
And yes, Commission Gordon had come as well. He stepped through the damaged store front, which was now a mixture of both melted ice and glass, his boots crunching bits of debris underfoot, wearing his usual light coloured trench-coat, much like the old detectives — dicks — in 1930s Chicago style crime stories in Ellery Queen Nightwing liked reading. Even after all this time classics never die, he knew, they stay prevalent forever.  
  
Commission Gordon’s daughter Barbara Gordon was Batgirl, and he knew her secret. In fact, he knew Bruce Wayne was Batman, amongst all the rest including Nightwing’s identity too. But he pretended not to know.  
  
He came to stand next to Nightwing. “Good thing you caught him,” Commission Gordon said gruffly. He was in his late fifties, wore glasses, and had a handlebar like moustache. And he was tough man if anyone crossed him. “From reports, he threatened the entire city with what he called Ice Acid. He even sent an ultimatum to the mayor.”  
  
“Yeah, we kind of know about the Ice Acid, but we didn’t know about the ultimatum.” Nightwing thumbed to Red Robin. He explained why the teen was half-naked and looked the way he appeared. “It eats everything it touches and burns like acid. It’s very nasty stuff.” There was no need to explain why Batman — Bruce — wasn’t here. Knowing Bruce’s secret identity, he knew Bruce Wayne was out of town at the moment.  
  
“I hope the boy will be okay?”  
  
“He’ll get proper medical attention at the Bat Cave. But I think when Batman hears what happen, I’m going to be in a wee bit of trouble.” Nightwing smiled, hinting at both his and Gordon’s Scottish linage.  
  
Gordon eyed Nightwing, he was a man of few smiles. Nightwing stopped smiling.  
  
“We’re going to need a manpower to get Freeze out of here and into the patty wagon,” Gordon said, he waved an officer over. An officer ran over to Gordon’s side. “Sergeant, gather up the strongest officers we have. Time to see how all that weight-lifting everyone does in the precinct gym is paying off. We carry him.”  
  
The Sergeant gave a salute, looked down at the massive-sized villain. “He must weight 500 pounds in that suit, sir.”  
  
“Then get the strongest men we have and use some elbow grease,” Gordon ordered.  
  
“We’ll help too, Commissioner,” Nightwing said. But when he saw Jason holding his back, and that Drake was still working on Freeze’s Ice Gun, he knew it would only be him.  
  
It took about fifteen minutes to haul Freeze’s massive dead-like bulk into the patty wagon. In that time, Red Robin had found the setting to thaw Rebecca — did so in quick succession; she was also taken into custody — and also found a map to locations of every Ice Acid bomb planted in the city. Red Robin knew immediately Freeze had had help from outside sources in planting the bombs and he’d have to figure out whom later.  
  
It would be difficult, knowing all of Freeze’s criminal affiliates.  
  
Before Nightwing passed Rebecca over the GCPD for custody, he demanded her cell phone. She gave it over, and he scrolled through her picture gallery and deleted the photo of him rubbing Drake’s hands and chest with hydrocortisone cream. She admitted she hadn’t yet posted it to any social media sites. When he saw it, he had to admit that the picture was risqué and scandalous especially at the angle in which Rebecca took it, and it gave the simple act of rubbing healing ointment on a burn an almost exhibition of unwanted flirtatiousness.   
  
It was best for that not to be put out into the public realm.  And it was equally best Jason had not seen it.   
  
_Oh, the jokes…_  
  
Nightwing looked down and saw a laminated store hours sign buried under debris. He picked it up and from it learned the store had just closed when Freeze and Rebecca broke in, perhaps a mere fifteen minutes or so. Either the owner the store was lucky or unlucky by the way things looked. From the damage, it was a complete write off. Everything was destroyed from the display cases to the wall where Freeze threw Jason.  
  
Jason gave Drake his brown jacket to wear and the pair were outside the store when Nightwing joined them.  
  
Just then, a car pulled up outside the police parameter, and Nightwing heard what could only be considered a yell of utter disbelief. He watched as a stoutish, slightly balding man, stood utterly speechless eying his totalled business. Nightwing felt sorry for the guy. But at least none of his merchandise had been taken.  
  
“Man, I don’t want to be that guy,” Jason said, watching as the owner walked through the caution tape parameter with an escorting police officer, and stepped over debris that used to be the front of his store.  
  
“Do we need to be here?” Drake asked. “I want to get back to the Bat Cave. I’m not feeling very well.”  
  
“You look pale. Are you in a lot of pain? The hydrocortisone cream is only a temporary measure.” He looked to Jason, gave him a slight knowing smirk. “Hey, you wanna give him some of the good stuff? We know you took some meds for your hangover this morning and some hydro-morphine from the medicine cabinet. Did you think we wouldn’t notice? Alfred does a daily inventory on all meds. Tim told us you were in there.”  
  
“A robin and a rat,” Jason snorted.  
  
“I didn’t know you took hydro-morphine? But if you have some…they are the best pain meds in the world!” Drake urged Jason to give him some.  
  
Jason grumbled, but reached into a pouch on his belt and took out his secret stash of meds that were in a small metal cigarette case along with his cigarette. But after he gave Drake one pill, Nightwing demanded Jason hand them all over for him to examine. He’s get his cigarette back afterwards. Meds could be dangerous if taken in large doses and mixed with others, if a person didn’t know how to handle them. And Jason was no doctor. And he had issues with taking things like such in the past.  
  
“You really are a dick, you know that?”  
  
“I’m also the big brother. And yes, if my acts keep you out of trouble, then I’m glad to be one.” He slipped his Escrima Sticks into the slots on the back of his costume. “And one with his own set of high voltage batteries. So watch it.”  
  
Nightwing opted to remain at the scene and settle things with the police, as Jason and Drake headed back to the Bat Cave. They took Jason’s motorcycle that he had had stashed in a back alley near-by.  
  
Nightwing also settled accounts with the hardware store owner Drake had taken the flame thrower from, and he used a charge card to pay for it. The owner was surprised, the charge card had the symbol of Batman on it, but there was no problems with it working. It was linked to a secret account Bruce had set up for situations like this. Who used cash anymore? It had an electronic strip that could not be traced.   
  
Nightwing bought one more thing from the store owner as well.  
  
And he sucked the cherry flavoured lollipop all the way back to the Bat Cave.

_To Be Continued.._.


	7. The 'J' Scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freeze has learned Jason's secret; Lazarus Pit; and demands to know its location, or he'll destroy Gotham City with a new weapon he calls Ice Acid - a vicious compound that eats everything it comes in contact with. He wants to revive his wife, Nora. The BatFamily must band together to stop Freeze or risk everything! (Sequel to my short story 'A Matter of Trust')

With the Bat Cave housed within hard bedrock that Bruce Wayne painstaking hollowed out in secret over the years, it was always a chore to dust. From the constant minute crumbling of basic earth movement to simple human interaction, the Bat Cave seemed to always need dusting.   
  
And it fell onto Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne Manor butler, to keep it clean. And to feed the bats.  
  
He never grumbled about it and he took great joy in doing it. Besides, he often found himself immersed in its grandiose and the collective hardware housed within — computerized and one-of-a-kind vehicles; weaponized gadgets; and its basic history — and he admired the trophies Master Bruce had consigned over the years during his years of crime fighting, amongst the many costumes he had worn  — all in separate display cases.  
  
The costumes circled the Bat Cave like war memorials. Much like every costume Master Dick, Master Jason, Master Tim, and Master Damian had worn in their shared plight with Bruce Wayne as Batman. And these were just the top lineage of costumes over the years — the special, often worn only once costumes, to fight the worse criminals imaginable, that needed that unique touch of ingenuity, the edge needed to beat the unbeatable!  
  
The costumes used mostly these days were housed in the changing chamber just to the right of the main area.  
  
Time and time again, Alfred found himself wondering what his young master’s life would have been like if his parents had not been murdered that fateful night returning from a downtown matinee. Or how the other’s lives would have been like if none of what Bruce Wayne had experienced as a child had come to pass, and how during one day, as he was wandering the grounds, fell into a secret hidden underground cavern of bat caves underneath the Wayne Manor property, and had been inspired by these nocturnal, unique creatures, to take on the mantle of The Batman in Gotham City, to protect citizenry from the evil that infested it. So no one had to experience what he had gone through, in losing his parents, the grief it had caused, to turn him into the seemingly “angry” man he was today.  
  
Unfortunately, history often repeated itself, and much like Master Wayne’s parents, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd’s parents met a similar fate. Both came from circus acrobatic backgrounds and both had their parents murdered by criminals out to prove a point, and both came to become wards of the state of Bruce Wayne. However, despite them undertaking the role of Bruce’s partner — as Robin — their lives both took dramatic turns of separation. Dick quit being Robin, and later chose the name Nightwing (a special name he chose from a tale Superman had told him from his planet of Krypton about a hero who saved its people from a dangerous threat long before the planet exploded), and Jason Todd, died at a young age after he was beaten to death with a crowbar by the Joker, later resurrected with the help of Ra’s al Ghul, and a mysterious spring of life known as the Lazarus Pit that had godly powers of healing.  
  
Next came Timothy Drake, who then took over the role of Robin. He had run away from his parents to get away from his abusive father — figuring out very quickly Bruce and Dick’s secret (a vastly intelligent boy). But later learned due to his actions caused the death of his mother. A workaholic, he put his best foot forward into everything he did, and was designated (unofficially) as the Bat Family’s ‘Quartermaster’ of gadgetry. When Damian came into the fray, the whole dynamic of the family changed, because for the first time there were two Robins.  
  
With increasing tension between them, Tim Drake opted to step down from the Robin persona and adopted the name Red Robin — after the red breasted Robin, the commonly referred name to the American bird. It was a simple enough change to distinguish the two and it suited Tim Drake because his favourite colour was red. His continued presence still stuck in Damian’s craw, however. Damian, the biological son of Bruce Wayne, and Talia al Ghul, the daughter of Ra’s al Ghul, was raised by his mother until he was twelve years old and trained almost at birth with the League of Assassins, so he knew how to fight when he joined the family.  
  
And then there were other interim members who came and went while the main family spread their wings elsewhere to try new things. But in the end, each Robin came back home to the nest, and they became a solid unit. And seeing them all interact with each other, watching them grow as a team, as family, brought a smile to Alfred’s face. He, himself, had relationships in his younger years, but none brought a brighter beam to his face than the Wayne family.  
  
As he dusted, the roar of a motorcycle echoed from behind him. He turned and saw Red Hood drive up onto the main platform. Jason had entered via the secret entrance tunnel sleuth ways. Seated behind him was Tim Drake dressed seemingly like Red Robin, but wearing Jason’s light brown jacket. Nightwing had told them he would meet them there after he dealt with any loose ends at the scene, including paying the shore owner Drake got the flamethrower from.  
  
When Jason dismounted the bike, Alfred noticed the state of their attire. He inquired: “Tough mission, sirs?”  
  
“You don’t know the half of it, Al,” Jason answered, taking off his helmet. Drake also took off his mask and gave Jason back his jacket. Jason noticed globs of white hydrocortisone cream and red on the inside of the material. “I’ll bill you for the dry-cleaning or a replacement if the blood won’t come out.”  
  
“Ha-ha,” Drake replied dryly. He then responded to Alfred’s inquiry. “Freeze had this crazy new Ice Acid gun weapon, Alfred.” Drake touched the scars on his bare chest and displayed his burnt finger-tipped hands. “It burned like heck on my skin, like dry-ice but with even more severity.”  
  
“Will you be all-right, Master Tim?”  
  
“I’ll survive,” Drake said. “But it smarts like a son-of-a-gun!“  
  
Alfred then asked, “Where is you equipment, Master Tim?”  
  
“Dick has it,” he said, then explained further. Due to his injuries, Drake couldn’t bring his equipment back with him he had left at the scene, so Nightwing offered to bring back everything, storing it in the trunk of his black, non-descriptive-looking sedan, he had driven to meet Jason with. “I’ll collect it later. Thank heavens Dick has his car or we’ve up a creek with a paddle dragging it back with us.”  
  
“You mean that piece of a crap? He needs to get himself a motorcycle like me. A sedan is a daddy’s car.”  
  
“I heard that!” Nightwing came out from a corner of the hidden tunnel where he had parked his sedan in another area of the Bat Cave. He had come in the secret entrance further behind them. “For the record, my car is not a piece of crap. It’s supped-up for crime fighting when called for. I used something similar in Bludhaven and it came in handy. I’ve had it detailed and painted black for obviously reasons. And it has a name, the _Nightbird_.”  
  
He greeted Alfred, calling him Alfie. In Bruce’s presence, everyone called Alfred by his proper name, except Damian, who called people by their surname, or Bruce — Father. But Bruce wasn’t here, so he called Alfred by the affectionate nickname. Alfred didn’t seem to mind.  
  
Nightwing unmasked. “Oh boy,” Dick breathed. “The owner of the jewelry store is really pissed, you guys. He’s demanding we pay for all damages even though Freeze did most of it. I told him he’d have to make a complaint with the GCPD, and we’ll go from there. But I told him to contact his insurance company.”  
  
“Nothing was taken, all his jewels were saved. Some people have no gratitude,” Jason grumbled.  
  
Drake put on a shirt, but everywhere the Ice Acid had touched was so sensitive to the touch. He hissed with pain and Dick saw this, and went over. “It’s going to take some time for those wounds to heal. You should take some time off and rest. And, if you’re able, take a bath in some Epsom salts. It’ll cool any rawness of the skin and help it heal faster. I use it. Alfred — if you’d could draw a bath for Tim?”  
  
“Of course, sir,” the dutiful butler said. “But before I do so, sir, a package came for you, Master Dick.” He handed it to Grayson. “At first, I thought someone had made either a mistake or was trying their hand at crude humour by way of the name, but as it came hand delivered via a wayward clandestine courier wearing archaic Middle Eastern clothing, I ventured it was indeed real.”  
  
Grayson looked at the name on the label. There was no forward address — just a name. He then gave Jason a strange look, a glance of cockeye and disbelief. “Seriously? Mr. Richard Head? Dick-Head?” He handed the oblong package to Jason with a shove. “You have some nerve.”  
  
Jason clutched it with both hands and seemed to juggle it protectively, but with a smile. “Hey, it was funny. Besides, the courier knew where to come.” He looked at Alfred. “Did it come with any message, Al?”  
  
“No message, sir,” the butler said. “The courier entered the Manor grounds, approached the front doors — activated the silent alarm, which then alerted the computer to me down here. I was going to send Titus, but then saw his clothes, and had an inkling of whom the package many have been sent from, it’s not the first time. I answered the door, the courier handed me the package, pointed to the name on the label, and then left the way he came.”  
  
“Ah, another package from Ra’s, I bet. I normally get them delivered elsewhere. But the courier must not have found me at the usual rendezvous place and came here instead. I ask Ra’s for a lot of things. This time I asked Ra’s for something very special, and seeing Tim’s scars, and knowing you have quite a lot yourself, Dick, I want to share this with you. And, of course, Bruce, Alfred, and the little Hell Spawn, too.”  
  
Dick asked where Damian was, and Alfred said he had the next two days off so he went to see Jon Kent, Superman’s son. They had become good friends since most recently they joint ventures in crime fighting together. Of course, they also went to the same youth collegiate school. Jon Kent had called to see if Damian wanted to hang out, and Damian agreed, albeit if he could get some training in. Fighting Superman’s son was a challenge in its own rite. So Jon Kent secretly flew over and picked Damian up. Ah, the wonders of being able to fly, Alfred thought.  
  
Dick, Drake and Alfred all stepped closer to Jason, looking at the package.  
  
“This is from Ra’s al Ghul?” Dick questioned.  
  
Jason nodded. “Ra’s and I are in contact on a regular bases. And if I’m right, my medicine is here.”  
  
“Medicine?”  
  
Jason unwrapped the plain brown wrapper and revealed what looked like an industrial stainless steel box. He had obviously received boxes like this before, Dick observed, because Jason then pushed back a small cover in the middle of the box and exposed a fingerprint reader. This was obviously to prevent anyone from accessing the contents if it fell into the wrong hands, Dick thought.  
  
Jason pressed his right thumb to the reader and it flashed an electronic eye under a seemingly average looking black surface. It took a few seconds as if to confirm his identity, then flashed green, and the box hissed open as if pressure sealed. There sounded like a pop and Jason lifted the cover. Inside, within the protectiveness of cotton, were a dozen small vials of clear liquid each with a small plastic screw top.  
  
Jason took one, raised it, and brought it into view. “Perfect,” he said, and went to screw off the top.  
  
Dick halted him. “Wait Jason, tell us what this is. What kind of medicine did Ra’s sent you? Are you sick?”  
  
“No, I’m not sick; quite the opposite in fact. Fit as a fiddle. It’s not conventional medicine. It’s water from the Lazarus Pit,” Jason said openly. He passed the box to Dick as he swigged the liquid in the vial down his throat as if he was taking a shot of vodka, wasting none of it, even licking the ends. Jason seemed to saviour it as he swallowed it.  
  
Dick looked at the other eleven vials, then took one out of the box — gazed longingly at it. He then gave it to Tim. “Have it analyzed for any harmful effects. Is this Lazarus Pit water or something else?”  
  
Tim agreed, and went to the Batcomputer analyzer. He took a sample with an eye dropper and placed a drop of water behind two small slates of glass, then placed the sample into the analyzer, closing the lid. The analyzer took a few moments to warm up. He sat, typed at the console. Readied, and then began the test when able.  
  
Jason looked at him. “You don’t trust me?”  
  
“Just being cautious,” Dick said. “It may be some intoxicating drug. I know you, Jason. We caught you taking drugs from the Bat Cave medical cabinet. You’ve dabbled in the drug trade before; we’ve even tangled on the issue; you even spent some time behind bars because of associative criminal actions — and if I recall the suicide rate increased in the prison you were held in. You never explained why. But, like I said, I’m just being cautious.”  
  
Jason rolled his eyes and then crossed his arms across his chest, then said: “Wanna wager? Twenty bucks! I’m a little short and I need some money for smokes. By the way, can I have my cigarette case back?”  
  
Dick was about to say something in response, when Tim swivelled in his chair at the Batcomputer. “No need, the analyses just came back. He’s telling the truth, Dick. It’s fresh water, per se, from the European continent. It could be from the Lazarus Pit, but I’ve never had a sample to document.”  
  
“Ra’s actually sent you fresh water from the Lazarus Pit?” When Jason nodded, Dick then said, “Why?”  
  
“Medicine, I told you!” Jason took the box back. “And, as you know, it has amazing healing properties. The Lazarus Pit can restore life. But in small qualities, its water can prevent sickness and disease, heal wounds, and keep a person young and healthy — like yours truly.”  
  
Dick looked at him with some skepticism. But when Jason put a finger to just underneath his right eye, tapping a spot as if indicating an unnoticed clue, that was when Dick suddenly believed the validity of Jason’s claim. Dick looked closer. “The ‘J’ scar…I never noticed it until now. It’s faded a lot. I can’t believe I never noticed until now. Not even when you showed it to Freeze. You took a huge gambit showing it to him.”  
  
“Really?” Tim came over to stand next him. “Yeah, come to think of it. It has faded a lot.”  
  
“I’ve been treating the scar with the water. Deep scars take time, but the water does work. And when you drink it, the water works internally, revitalizing the body healing any scar tissue or organ damage. It’s not a miracle cure by any sense of the term — or maybe, yes — but it helps keep my body healthy after my resurrection. Ra’s told me I had to use it to. Let’s just say, so things don’t rot. I am, technically, a zombie.” He laughed.  
  
Dick was shocked.  
  
“Remarkable,” Alfred chimed in after being silent for so long. He stepped close to Jason and leaned in close to his face. Jason just stood still as the elderly man looked. “I thought I noticed a change, but I couldn’t be sure.” Alfred then backed off. “You kept this a secret from everyone? Why?”  
  
“I had to, Ra’s said if anyone found out about the water it could cause trouble. How in the hell Freeze found out about the Lazarus Pit is beyond me. Ra’s won’t take kindly to any visitors.”  
  
“Then we need to dissuade Freeze,” Dick said.  
  
“I’ve been thinking about that, and I think we should give Freeze exactly what he wants.”  
  
“Are you crazy?” Tim said. “He could resurrect the dead like some bad Mummy movie.”  
  
“Over the years, we’ve known you do engage in some outrageous ventures with odd behaviours, but I have to concur with Master Dick, and Master Tim…Master Jason, are you out of your mind?” Alfred said.  
  
Jason put a reassuring hand on the butler’s shoulder and smiled. “Hey Al, Joker did some crazy shit to me, but give me some credit. Drake’s not the only with smarts. I have a plan.”

 

_To Be Continued..._


	8. The Trickster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freeze has learned Jason's secret; Lazarus Pit; and demands to know its location, or he'll destroy Gotham City with a new weapon he calls Ice Acid - a vicious compound that eats everything it comes in contact with. He wants to revive his wife, Nora. The BatFamily must band together to stop Freeze or risk everything! (Sequel to my short story 'A Matter of Trust')

In a specially crafted wing of Arkham Asylum housed a very chilly prisoner. His cell was nicknamed the “Ice Box” for obvious reasons, because it felt like walking into a meat locker at some restaurant.   
  
Victor Fries, better known as Mr. Freeze, with the help of Batman, had this wing designed especially to keep Freeze alive at his optimal temperature of below 50 degrees because of his unusual physiology.  
  
He had escaped this icy prison no more than twenty-four hours ago, and attempted to rehash his criminal career with the aid of a guard that Rebecca had seduced and said would pay him $25,000. The guard had never received his money and his body was found later stuffed quite inventively in a ventilation shaft in one of the lower prisoner level washrooms. Rebecca later told the authorities everything when she awoke, thawed, after Freeze tried to kill her. She was now in a mental health rehabilitation clinic for the criminally insane.  
  
On this isolated level, guards had to wear special winter attire to even enter the floor. Meals were often delivered cold. But mostly they entailed a mixture of vitamins and nutrients in a variety of frozen delights. However, due to his accident, Freeze’s taste buds were damaged so everything he ate tasted like cardboard. But it was his fate, and his to suffer the rest of his existence.  
  
During the last year he had been in preparation, developing his physical prowess, stamina, and mental acuity — to escape. He had developed a “relationship” with Rebecca when he got involved in the Prisoner “pen pal” Exchange Program Arkham Asylum had just recently introduced. It encouraged prisoners to write to people who shared similar interests with the public using online profiles. It also helped with boredom and it was a form of therapy. However, all letters, emails, and of the sort, were read before sent out, their “pen pals” throughly researched, and vice versa when received to give to the prisoners.  
  
Rebecca had written to him because at first, and she admitted, she was bored, visiting the Arkham Asylum website where every prisoner who wished to participate in the program was profiled. While he had to write out his letters on paper and send them through the mail; he got her responds via the Arkham web server, which were then printed out. He couldn’t touch a normal computer unless it was acutely temperature tested to his cold touch. And since that was a bother, the Warden told Freeze to use paper and a special pen specifically designed to write in cold temperatures.  
  
She was a very intelligent girl, Freeze thought, showing a promise for the medical sciences. So, he felt mildly regretful for getting her involved in this recent caper, and possibly ruining the rest of her life, and potentially any chance of her getting a good career. He had seen an opportunity, the one he was waiting for, and took it. He used her, returned to his secret hideout, collected the newly developed suit he had been working on just before the last time Batman had interfered with his plans, donned it, and collected his newest weapon: Ice Acid, that he had developed prior but never got to use. It had been waiting in storage for the future.  
  
He knew now all the bombs Rebecca and her “demented friends” had planted throughout the city were found according to news reports, she had actually got others alike to help Freeze in his plight. Red Robin had probably found the map in his Ice Gun’s computer system to track them all down. Youngsters these days were smart but were also easily manipulated with false promises and cold hard cash, much like politicians with the average public. He had promised her a piece of his operation and Rebecca was excited to work with him.  
  
But he had no interest in her, and she was easily tricked.  
  
All he wanted in the beginning was to save his wife.  
  
Early in life, he turned to crime to get the capital to fund research to cure his wife and restore her from an existence without living — she was currently in cryogenic stasis with Stage 4 of MacGregor Syndrome. But Batman, and others, had continuously forted his plans.  
  
But just recently he had come to some knowledge much more valuable than money, and it involved one of Batman’s adopted crime fighting ‘children’ Jason Todd and some information he had acquired from third party brokers. Something called the Lazarus Pit, a fabled pool of water that was said to restore the dead back to life, and it was situated somewhere in snowy mountains of Switzerland.   
  
Jason Todd denied its existence at the jewelry store when confronted, but Freeze knew better. He was never one to believe in rumour, conspiracy, or fantasy — he was a man of science. But stranger yet, if there was even the slightest kernel of truth to it, he wanted to see it for himself. Besides, he just had to look to himself to believe stranger things existed in this world. Who would have thought something bizarre like him could even live?  
  
Red Hood was Jason Todd, the ‘J’ Scar proved that was undeniable, no matter what the man told him. He was alive and well and he knew he had to learn, unequivocally, Todd’s secret of immortality. Joker had beat the boy to death. The fact that Jason Todd — Red Hood — was still alive was proof the information he learned was real!  
  
Freeze sat on a bunk in his icy cell and spoke to himself low under front-bitten breath. “Somewhere…in the snowy mountains of Switzerland…I must get my hands on a sample of that Lazarus Pit water to analyze. I need to either  debunk or learn the startling truth of its properties. To save Nora!”  
  
The Ice Acid turned out to be more powerful than he had imagined. But his main purpose was not to rob the store, or in fact threaten the city — they were merely a means to an end — but it was to coax Red Hood out of hiding, and demand the vigilante confirm the secret of the Lazarus Pit that he had learnt about. He couldn’t recall the name of which the information broker resided from that told about the Lazarus Pit, but it had something to do with…Owls.  
  
He thought he had planned for everything, but in the end he had been wrong.  
  
He felt naked without his special suit. Right now, he wore a dab orange prison jumpsuit — normal prison attire — but that was specially crafted for his icy frame so the material would not adhere to his cold skin like glue.   
  
Freeze gazed over to the wall at a picture of his wife, Nora, encased in a temperate glass picture holder.  
  
Batman had his wife “stored” in a facility built to house cryogenically frozen people in Gotham City. Batman had told Freeze where the facility was and Freeze was shocked to see just how many other people were stored there, who choice to freeze themselves in the same manner, similar to Nora, so when in the future, when a cure for their diseases could be found, they would be revived.   
  
He thanked Batman for that act of kindness, at the very least. But he still hated the caped crusader for keeping him away from Nora. His condition prevented Freeze from experiencing emotions, but nothing could stop him from loving his wife — it was the last bastion of his humanity he had left to keep him alive.  
  
Suddenly there was a knock at his cell door, ripping him from his reverie, and a voice spoke from the other side of the pressured door. “Someone here to see you, Victor,” the voice of a guard said.  
  
Freeze faced the door. “I am in no mood for guests,” he said coldly.  
  
Despite his protest, the electronic lock on his cell door beeped and then depressurized before it began to be pushed open. Freeze stood on his feet, angry. Suddenly, the silhouette of a strong looking man stood at the threshold. Lights in Freeze’s cell were dim because they were temperature sensitive. Normal lights would crack and burst. So, when his eyes began to focus, he was surprised to see the last person he imagined.  
  
Wearing insulated attire but of his own design to keep him warm in below fifty degree temperatures, Red Hood stood at the threshold of Freeze’s cell. Even in all those bulky clothes, he looked menacing. Maybe it was just the red mask and the cold dark eyes, Freeze thought.  
  
Red Hood took three steps into Freeze’s cell, and then the guard shut the door, leaving them alone.  
  
“In all the world, you were the last person I’d expect to visit me. But after our conversation at the jewelry store, I am not surprised,” Freeze said.   
  
“I’m here with a gift, Victor,” Jason said, and produced an oblong metal cylinder. “Inside is a cure for your wife. It contains a vial with healing water from a pool in Switzerland. And its yours free of charge. No tricks.”  
  
Freeze’s eyes budged. “Then the legends are true?” He reached out for the cylinder, but then stopped. “Wait! Nothing is free. What’s the catch? I will give you anything for that! Are you Jason Todd?”  
  
Red Hood produced a short laugh, said: “So many questions, Victor. I will only answer the last one: No. Jason Todd died a long time ago. Everyone knows that, even the Joker knows that. The boy died when a crazy lunatic beat him to death for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. You have his past mistakenly associated with the wrong people; he is dead. I, however, am a completely different person. I am a murderer and a killer, nothing more, nothing less.”  
  
Red Hood handed Freeze the cylinder and Freeze clutched it in both hands as if holding onto a fabled magical elixir. “Your reputation precedes you,” he said. “Yes, I must admit. I mistook you for someone else. When Joker said he branded Jason Todd on the right cheek, he obviously lied, branding instead one of his victims before murdering the poor soul. I believe you when you tell me the truth about your scar. The man is insane. And a scar as deep as that is permanently prominent on one’s face. Your scar is that of a child’s. Forgive my presumption.”  
  
“Good, I’m glad we have that cleared up now,” Hood said.  
  
“But how did you get this water?” Freeze questioned. But then he sat down on his bunk dejected and a gloom etched Freeze’s face. “Regardless, if the water genuine, it must be ingested, correct?” Red Hood remained silent, allowing Freeze to reason things out. “And Nora, in cryogenic stasis, cannot swallow, nor can the water be injected into her frozen veins. If she is taken out of cryogenic stasis, she will immediately die.”  
  
“You proceed the facts correctly, Victor,” Hood said. “But I’ll leave you with that water nevertheless. How I got it will remain my secret. But I assure you, it is genuine. This world has many secrets humanity is yet to understand or even rediscover. I’ve learned quite a few in my time. But I am no scholar or historian. I only know what I know. And you, Victor, if things were different, would’ve helped so many people with your genius.”  
  
Freeze smiled. “Thank you,” he said, looking at the cylinder.  
  
Red Hood banged on the cell door three times indicating he was ready to leave.  
  
“Why are you doing this? Why give this to me knowing the potential implications?”  
  
Red Hood turned around to face him. “You mean, crafting a formula in an attempt to create an army of the undead? I wouldn’t worry about that. Being a scientist, Victor, you obviously know that isn’t feasible.”  
  
Freeze nodded. “A person must still be alive, or at the very least, have an ounce of life for something like this to work. Right? That is why I am completely certain you are not Jason Todd. After what Joker told me what he did to the boy, there was no way the lad could’ve survived long enough for the water to restore him.”  
  
Red Hood didn’t say anything. He went to bang on the door again when the pressure lock hissed. Just before he left, Freeze thanked him again, and told him maybe someday the water will help his wife.  
  
After his cell door shut once more, Freeze sat looking at the cylinder, and the dilemma finally struck him. He couldn’t open it. It was much like the theory of _Schrodinger’s Cat_ — a scientific theory in quantum physics.   
  
The basic premise of _Schrodinger’s Cat_ is if you place a cat and something that could kill the cat into a box and seal it, theoretically a person would not know whether the cat is either still alive or dead unless you opened the box. The same could be said about if indeed Red Hood gave him a cure for his wife or not.  
  
If he opened the cylinder to take a look at the vial inside, he could be assured Red Hood gave him the water, but it would instantly freeze and the liquid would be rendered useless; the vial probably instantly would shatter in the icy coldness of his cell. If he believed the vigilante was telling the truth, and the vial was truly inside the cylinder, then he had to believe the cure for his wife was inside without verifying its contents.  
  
A sudden hated enveloped him. The Red Hood, whoever he really was — not Jason Todd; Freeze could now confirm  that by simple logic that the boy was truly dead — was mocking him.  
  
The man was a true bastard. A trickster! Much like the Joker.  
  
And in any regard, the water — the cure — was useless to him!  
  
Freeze threw the cylinder against the wall with enough strength to shatter glass, and the seal cracked, the cylinder popping open. It crashed to the floor. And inside, a small vial of water fell out. It bounced once and then rolled along the floor towards him. Red Hood had been telling the truth. There was a vial of water inside.  
  
But was it truly water from the fabled pool of the Lazarus Pit?  
  
He collapsed to his knees to cup the vial in his hands…  
  
“Nora… the cure…”  
  
But as he reached for it, the eventual happened — it cracked from the pressure of the water’s sudden flash freeze.  
  
And Victor Fries — Mr. Freeze — howled in anger!  
  
x x x  
  
Escorted by a guard to the front door, Red Hood left Arkham Asylum and walked down the winding road to the main iron gate where a dark, unmarked sedan awaited for him on the other side of the road just beyond — watched every moment by the tower guards with semi-automatic rifles. The windows of the car were all tinted, so no one was able to see the driver. The gates closed behind him.  
  
Once inside in the passenger seat, the sedan drove off. Red Hood removed his helmet.  
  
“So, did you really give Freeze the Lazarus water?” Dick Grayson asked, driving. Tim was in the back seat. Dick had driven Jason to Arkham and then waited for him on the side of road.  
  
“Yup,” Jason Todd said.  
  
“You’re taking an awful risk, Jay,” Dick said.   
  
Tim agreed. “We heard everything you said to him through your helmet comm. You nicely dissuaded him from believing you were alive. But Freeze is brilliant. He could use the water to actually rise the dead.”  
  
Dick nodded. “And believe me, I’ve seen crazier things in my time.”  
  
Jason waved off their worries. “Trust me, guys. If I know Freeze, you’re both wrong. It’ll never come to that. He’ll want to see inside the cylinder to see if I was actually telling him the truth.”  
  
“And if he does…”  
  
“The water will instantly freeze and its special properties will be rendered inert, according to what we know of the Lazarus Pit,” Tim concluded. “Nice!”  
  
“But he won’t know that,” Dick said. “He’ll probably think you tricked him and you’ll be on his hit list.”  
  
Jason shrugged. “I’m on so many people’s hit list’s already. One more doesn’t matter to me.”  
  
They drove for a few kilometres through the streets of Gotham without saying a word to each other on their way back to Wayne Manor. The quiet and retrospect was nice sometimes, Dick thought.   
  
He then called Alfred and told him they were almost home. And Alfred said that dinner would be ready.  
  
“Oh, by the way, Jay…” Dick said, as he drove on, “If I recall on the roof top, just before the business with Freeze at the jewelry store, you were going to ask me for something. I figure it was ’the thing you wanted me to do, for which I could not refuse’. So, what is it you want me to do? I lost the challenge. Tell me?”  
  
“Just don’t ask for a pole dance,” Tim said. “No one wants to see that.”  
  
Dick rolled his eyes. “Did Barbara tell you the nightclub story, Tim?”  
  
“She told me it started out as a mission, but you liked it so much you stripped-teased part time for fun.”  
  
“I’m going to have to talk to Barb about that,” Dick said. He then glanced at Jason, who seemed a little introspective. Normally he would crack a joke at Dick strip-teasing, but something else was on his mind. “You okay, Jay? What’s the matter?”  
  
“I’m thinking, I’m thinking about your question,” Jason tilted his head slightly. “I don’t know…maybe that’s too corny…” He seemed to say to himself, as if answering a self-asked question. “Oh, what the hell…Dick, you and Bruce had some interesting adventures as the dynamic duo. As did Bruce and me. But he doesn’t like to speak about your past with him much, as if it remains some secret he wants to keep to himself.”  
  
“Yeah, we had some crazy adventures and missions, until we had the falling out,” Dick said. “But we got over that. We’re one big, happy family now. Sort of. What is it you’re asking?”  
  
“Tell me about you and Bruce, in the old days.”  
  
Tim smiled behind them. “You know, I’d like to hear some of those stories, too.”  
  
Dick drove straight-faced for a moment, then said, “So then, that’s your request?”  
  
“Yup,” Jason said, looking at Dick.  
  
Dick smiled. “That I can do,” he said, as he turned onto a side road that would lead to the Manor. “Let me tell you a story of when Batman and I fought the Joker, Penguin, Riddler, and Cat Woman in one crazy caper all at once. It was one of our toughest and yet one of my all time memorable, favourite missions.”  
  
 _END._


End file.
